


The Tale of the Lorax

by SassyLassy



Category: The Lorax (2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dark, Character Death, Dystopian, Gen, Violence, swear words oh no
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-29
Updated: 2018-07-29
Packaged: 2019-06-18 04:48:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 44,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15478020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SassyLassy/pseuds/SassyLassy
Summary: Written in the year of 2012, here was my attempt at taking on the story of The Lorax and turning it into a darker, more dystopian setting.





	1. Introduction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s Thneedville, but not how it seems.

Theodore Wiggins was born and raised in Thneedville which, in itself, wasn’t exactly a bad thing. The town was well looked after, it had the best hospitals, the best schools, recreational activities, but the only problem was that the town was very, very bad. For one there was no mayor, no electoral committee, nothing to represent the people’s views and opinions on matters. Those rights had long since been given up when O'Hare, a man of short stature, had rose to power in the ranks of the city. 

You see, Thneedville was in a bad state.

Beyond the safety of the all powerful wall was a wasteland, where miles, and miles, and miles of what had once been pristine grassland had been slowly transformed into an inhospitable land. There were remains of tree stumps scattered absolutely everywhere. Old, rusting machines that looked more like rotting carcases scattered the land. The ground was rock hard, and incapable of sustaining life. There were no trees, no bushes, no animals. The only things that lived out there were crows, and the grickle-grass that was wiry and thin, that caught at your clothes and scratched your skin if you got too close.

But nobody ever went outside of town. It was, naturally, forbidden for anyone to leave the safety of the wall. It was safe, in town after all, since the wasteland was a dangerous, and deadly place. Inside of town was where you could entertain yourself, as long as you stayed within the boundaries, kept to your districts, and obeyed the rules that governed the town. 

There were payments to be made, after all. 

For one you had to pay to be able to live in the town, walk the streets, eat the food, and of course breathe the air because the air quality around Thneedville was that terrible you had to pay to have a clean supply pumped right into your house by the O'Hare Corporation. That organization, the corporation, was in charge of absolutely everything in town. Every company in a way served O'Hare, and he loved it, and made no attempt to hide his love of this power he held over the people within the town.

As any controlled town there were rules, of course. The city was separated into districts. The richer people were district one, and the numbers pushed out until you reached district seven. It wasn’t that big a town, after all, and to get into other districts you had to have the right and proper security clearance. Those, however, changed like the time of day and if you didn’t have the right up to date papers to go from one district to another you could be hauled off to jail for trespassing.

There was a curfew, as well. Nobody was allowed out on the streets after nine thirty every night and the only exception to that was the guards. The men who had thick necks, strong muscles, and intimidating presence. They ruled the streets between the hours of nine thirty and four in the morning and may God have mercy on your soul if they caught you on the streets without clearance, because they would not.

The sky was thick and black with horrible looking clouds, as well. Smog left from a long time ago scarred the sky as badly as the scars of the tree stumps beyond the wall scarred the land. Because of this, there were no trees, no plant life whatsoever to speak of. All food was grown ‘organically’ in labs underground. They were genetically made to hold the required amount of vitamins and minerals, and shipped into each district where they were offered for purchase in the stores. 

Naturally without any sunlight people had to get their vatamin D from other means. There was the O'Hare Sun Suplicant which was more or less another name for a tanning salon. People would have to stand in front of giant, power sucking lights that would bathe their bodies in their unnatural glow, making up for the lack of sunlight. Outside, on the steets, it was always bleak and dark. 

Yes. This was the town where Theodore (Ted) Wiggins had been born, and raised, and while the masses of people throughout Thneedville had long since forgotten the way that things used to be young Ted happened to live with not only his mother, but his grandmother Norma. She was an elderly woman who had seen the change of the city, who could remember a time when there were real trees, and animals, birds and fish… she remembered the Once-ler, a man who had fallen so far into the world of myth and legends many of them believed him to be nothing but a story.

But, Ted did not know this yet. There was a lot the young boy did not know, about how things became the way they were. 

He had a lot to learn, in his life. And it all started, as most stories do, with a woman…

_To be continued_


	2. The Once-ler

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ted learns of trees, the Once-ler, and how to find him. But what kind of man lives in the middle of a wasteland?

Like every little boy, no matter the situation in which he’d been brought up in, Ted Wiggins had a crush. He had a horribly, powerful crush upon his next door neighbor. Her name was Audrey and her hair was a vibrant orange color, she had freckles that were like kisses from the sun itself, and a beautiful green shade for her eyes that challenged the fake green painted cement people called grass. She always had a smile on her face when she talked to him, and that was reason enough for the young boy to end up falling for her.

She visited his house a lot, though unfortunately never to speak to him. Audrey had a project in school, to interview an elderly member of society and do a paper on them and since Audrey had no grandparents she had chosen to interview Ted’s grandmother. The two would always sit upstairs behind closed doors, talking away for hours on end and it infuriated him. He adored his grandmother as any young boy should but he was so insanely jealous; Audrey was always so close to his room and yet so far away. It was maddening but he never let it show, he couldn’t.

“Thank you so much for seeing me again Mrs Wiggins.” Audrey said one day as she made her way down the stairs.

“Oh, no problems dear. If you need anything you know where to find me.” called back the white, curly haired woman from upstairs.

Ted had, of course, naturally positioned himself at the base of the stairs when the redhead made her way down them. “Hey Audrey.” he greeted in his best, nonchalant kind of way.

“Oh hey Ted!” she greeted back giving him the smile that made his knees turn to jelly.

“Finished with Grammy?” he asked, glancing up the stairs.

“Mmhmm. She’s a wealth of information you know. She’s great.” Audrey said as she headed for the doors, but then stopped, and looked over her shoulder at the twelve year old. She seemed to contemplate something, chewed her bottom lip, before she smiled. “Hey, wanna see something cool?”

“Yeah sure!” he said enthusiastically.

“Come with me.” she gestured for him to follow her as she left the house and Ted felt his heart rate increase. She wanted him to go with her? To her house? Into her house? He’d never been in such a situation before and he squeaked for a moment before coughing, patted his chest with his fist, and hurried after her. The two walked around the inflatable bushes, the fake metallic flowers and electronic bee that went “Buzz!” when you got too close, Ted with a dreamy expression on his face and Audrey with one of determination. For a moment, she glanced up at the window of Ted’s house, before continuing on her way.

He hadn’t been in her house before, and when he entered it he found it as furnished and pretty as he thought it would be. Her parents were painters, and their abstract art littered the walls. Audrey gestured for him to follow her up the stairs and he did, again, his heart rate beating wildly in his ears. Her room. She was taking him to her room. Of all the places in the world to go with Audrey it was to her room. What if she had THINGS out? Girly, private things! He may suffer a nose bleed and die.

She pushed the door to her room open as quietly as she could, maybe she thought her parents were home, and pushed him inside. Ted almost tripped up his own feet but caught himself, and stared at her room in wonder. The walls were so vibrant, so bright. There were images painted onto the walls in paint, tall things with big puffy tops with skinny, striped bodies. They were on a green ground, and the sky was blue for some reason. Ted stared, amazed, since he had no idea what eased things were. They were on the walls, even on the ceiling, giving the feeling of looking up at them from the ground. It was impressive.

“Whoa, this is amazing!” he complimented since it was, before turning to look at Audrey with a confused look on his face. “What are those?”

“Those,” she explained as she pressed a hand to the wall, “are trees. They used to grow all around here.”

“Really? First I’ve heard of them…” Ted said, since the trees he knew were electronic with color changing lights. These trees didn’t look like the ones he knew at all.

“People said the touch of their tufts were soft as silk, and they smelled of fresh butterfly milk.” Audrey went on to explain, acting as if she was holding one of the tufts in her hands and pressed her face into her palms with a blissful look on her face. Ted had never seen her looking so happy.

“Wow. Uh. What does that mean?” he asked.

“I don’t know. But it sounds wonderful, doesn’t it?” she asked. “Your Grammy’s been telling mea bout them.”

“Wait, my Grammy?” Ted did a double take.

“Hmmhmm. When I began doing my project with her, she started talking about them. She’s like, one of the last remaining members of society from before O'Hare took over you know that? All the others have died either from old age or… well you know.”

Ted nodded solemnly. If you didn’t have a family, or enough money, if you got very sick chances were high that you would die. Lovely as Thneedville was, there were problems. Medical issues. The disease rate was fairly high and people paid high prices to be vaccinated and ensured safety from viruses and diseases that were passed around. If you couldn’t afford medical treatment, chances were slim you’d survive. The fact that Grammy Norma had survived that even in her mid seventies she was still kicking and feisty as ever, was a sign to how strong she was.

“But aren’t they beautiful?” she asked softly.

“Yeah… they are.” Ted said, turning his head from looking at Audrey to observing the paintings on her walls.

“I’d give anything to see a real tree.” Audrey whispered, pressing her hands to her chest. “To see it, growing, like they used to…” “Oh?” he asked, arching an eyebrow at her as he watched her perfect face.

“Mmhmm. But that’s impossible. They all died out decades ago.” she sighed. “Your Grammy told me. It’s sad, really… to think we’re stuck in a town like this without any real nature. No birds, no real grass, bushes, sunlight… everything’s artificial. No wonder so many people are sick.”

“Audrey!” Ted gasped; since this kind of talk was warned about in school. You never question what happened, things were the way they were because that’s how they are. O'Hare was in charge of everything, and if anyone was even heard whispering about how things could be better could be taken away and brought back very, very different to when they left. If they even came back at all.

“It’s true and I’m not afraid to say it.” she said, frowning. “You should ask your Grammy about the past more. Ask her about trees, Ted. Somebody’s got to care about them. Somebody’s got to care about things changing.”

When Ted headed home that night his mind was a buzz with ideas. A tree. It would be cool to see a real one but on top of that, if he got a tree and gave it to Audrey… oh, baby, oh. What would she give him? A kiss? The little boy part of him grinned at the prospect of kissing the redhead but the slowly emerging young man kept wanting to focus on what she had said about things needing to change. They were both at odds with one another so Ted was especially quiet when he sat down to dinner with his mother and grandmother.

His mother, Helen, was a busy woman. She worked as a legal admins clerk in town so she was out early in the mornings, and home late. Most nights he never saw her. But seeing her tonight was nice, she looked tired, but pleased to be home. Ted looked down at his meal, which was nutrient enriched sustenance that looked more like slop than what real food looked like. But then again, Ted, and Helen, had never experienced real food like Norma had in her childhood. They knew no better. Ted prodded at the stuff with his spoon.

“Ted, honey, don’t play with your food.” Helen scolded, tired. “You either Ma.” she added since Grammy Norma was using her fingers to try and shape the slop into a ball.

The young boy sat there for a moment before slowly speaking up. “Hey Ma? You wouldn’t happen to know anything about where I could get… get a tree, do you?” he asked. So focused on his mother’s face was he, Ted missed the look of shock on his grandmother’s face.

“What? A tree? What do we need a tree for?” she asked, looking confused. “Besides, we’ve got a tree, the latest model?” she gestured to the window where a fake, electric tree sat.

“Yeah, no I. I mean a real tree that grows out of the ground. You know?”

“Really. You want a yucky, dirty… what, what does it do? I don’t even know what it does.” the working mother scoffed, years of education telling her that real trees were a troublesome thing that just weren’t to be meddled with.

“Well if you’re looking for a tree,” Grammy Norma piped up, “You need to find the Once-ler.”

“Ma no!” Helen said loudly, abruptly, in such a tone it shocked Ted to silence.

“We don’t mention that man anywhere! He’s not real. He’s one of your magical fairy tale things. He ain’t real Ted don’t listen to your grandma.” she said rushed, going so far to get up and suddenly pull the curtains closed, blocking any view of them from outside. “We ain’t got time for your fairy tales.”

“Oh pish posh.” Grammy Norma said, “Saying his name won’t bring O'Hare down upon us!”

“You don’t know that!” Helen snapped back. 

“Once-ler, Once-ler, Once-ler!”

“WHAT is the Once-ler?” Ted shouted, causing the two women to look at him. Helen looked like she was fit to burst.

“I’m not being a part of this. I refuse to listen to this. Good bye.” Helen got up from the table and stormed out of the room but stopped, and pointed, at her mother. “If he gets inta this mess you’ll have ta answer to me.”

“I’ve no idea what you mean.” Grammy Norma replied blandly. The two women, both equally stubborn, stared down one another before Helen stormed out.

“…what the heck just happened?” Ted asked.

“The Once-ler is the man who knows what happened to the trees.” Grammy Norma explained, turning to him as if she hadn’t just had an arguement with the omwn. “But he’s also the head of an organization that is set on bringing O'Hare down.”

Ted stared at his grandmother, slack jawed.

“Oh yeah. He’s real all right, I know that matter than most. I’ve been his right hand for decades now, where do you think I go every Friday night?” she asked.

“Bowling?” Ted asked quietly.

“Mmm! Nope. That’s my clever cover.” Grammy Norma said. “I smuggle him food, fresh water, and information. We’ve got a whole network of people working with him, all of us sick and tired of O'Hare and hopin’ to bring the little short stop down.” she tapped her finger against the table. “The way things are? Aren’t right. People are slowly waking up to it and it’s thanks to him that they are.”

“So, wait, wait. He knows what happened to them?” he asked.

she nodded.

“Do you know?”

She nodded.

“can you tell me?”

She shook her head. “The tale has to be heard from him. To find him shows you are worthy enough to know the story, to know the tale, All of us, in the team, have met him and spoken to him. He tells us his story and it opens all of our eyes to what is wrong, and how it happened. You, Ted… need to go find the Once-ler.”

Ted sat there, thinking this over. Ever since he was born he’d known Thneedville. The dark skies, the gloomy nights, the high security, the fact there were no poor people in town. How every house had only one single child, no twins, no triplets, and no siblings whatsoever. The food was good for you but tasty? No. The fact every month he had to go into a standup tanning salon with the other boys in his class to ensure he got his proper dose of vitamin D… this was all he had known. Yet his heart was stirring, suddenly. How had things been for his grandmother? Why hadn’t he ever asked? How was it he could live with a woman who could remember trees, and yet he hadn’t bothered to ask her such things? And Audrey, opening his eyes to what trees were, that they were a symbol of life…

He glanced up the stairs, knowing his mother had vanished up there. “So…” he said after a moment before looking to his grandmother. “Where can I find him?" 

"Far outside of town, where the Grickle grass grows. Where the wind smells warm and sour when it blows. And no birds ever sing, excepting old crows. That’s the place where the Once-ler lives.” she recited a small poem to him, as if reading a story to a sleepy child. “

Ted stared at his grandmother, eyes wide. "Wait. Outside of town? That, that’s impossible nobody ever goes outside of town!" 

"So then how have I been seeing him every week for decades?” she asked innocently.

“Grammy, show me how!” he begged.

“No, Ted. That’s not how it goes. You need to find your own path, your own way, to find the Once-ler. But you need to take him tokens to show you mean him no ill harm for people have tried to kill him before. Nasty people. O'Hare’s people.” she reached out, and touched his hand. “This is a dangerous town, Ted. More dangerous than you know. These tests, to see him, does seem rough and scary but it’s worth it. To hear his story.”

If it meant he would learn more, and try to find out how to get a tree for Audrey to make her happy, and to help bring change… Ted could understand why it was a dangerous thing. He swallowed, thinking…. “What are these tokens?”

“You’ve made me so proud.” Grammy Norma whispered as she rubbed his cheek with her palm. “You need to find a nail, fifteen cents, and the shell of a great, great, great grandfather snail. If you take him these, he’ll tell you everything.”

Ted had always been a well behaved boy, one must realize this. He was always in bed on time, did his homework, never gave his mother or grandmother cause to worry. Sure he did tend to put his mom on edge when he would ride around on his wheeler scooter but that was a given. Tonight, though, he had the distinct feeling that he was about to venture into truly dangerous territory. He had never snuck out before, ever. If he was caught, captured, what would the security men do to him? Would they beat up a boy?

A part of him was excited at the prospect, the idea of danger and action and mystery; it made him feel like a spy. Another part was pants crapping terrified and never wanted to go outside again but how would that fix things? How would that help put things back in their rightful place in a town where people were molly coddled and told things were fine while their houses burned to the ground? No, enough accepting his hand outs. Time to bite the hand.

He said good night to his mom, told her he didn’t beleive in the rubbish Grammy was talking about, and went to his room. Ted waited three hours before setting out, climbing out his window shimmied down the pipe on the side of the house. Already he had found a nail and fifteen cents and it took him half an hour searching the backyard before he found a great, great, great grandfather snail crawling around and leaving a long line of slime in its wake. How did he know what it was? It had a tiny, old man beard. Pocketing his goods, Ted got onto his scooter and rode off into the night. He was smart enough to keep his light off, and kept to the shadows, and side allies.

On more than one occassion he heard peoples voices in the far distance, gruff, angry, large sounding voices that had him almost wetting himself and wanting to go straight home. The curiosity of a young boy is a powerful thing though, and he continued on his way ever so carefully until he finally reached The Wall. It was a huge, metal and concrete thing that surrounded the whole city of Thneedville. Just what was on the other side? He never thought to wonder. The Wall kept them safe, kept them secure, kept out the badness. But just what was the badness? It must be awful because his Grammy had given him a face mask to wear, and some goggles.

“You’ll need it.” she had told him.

Riding along, Ted spotted an anomoly on the ground before him. A shadow that didn’t belong. Looking up he saw some words faded on a pipe. “Vent Out” it said. Out! That word sung to Ted like sirens of the sea singing to sailors on a ship. He parked his bike and investigated the area, before spotting a metal box that said ‘Authorize Personnel only’. Ted opened it slowly and it revealed a red button. Well, red buttons were made to be pressed. He pressed ita nd almost instantly a whole set of metal stairs leaped out of the wall, leading all the way to a door all the way, not even half way up, the huge Wall.

He took his bike up the stairs and found the door leading out was actually already slowly opened. Curious indeed. The boy pushed it open and was met with the stinking stench of chemicals and oils. Coughing and gagging, Ted pulled the face mask over his mouth and goggles over his eyes before he walked along the narrow walk way that had him dangling only feet above a rich, thick, disgusting black river of grime. The smell was intense, like having red hot pokers shoved up his nose ensuring the smell would remain with him for the rest of his life. His foot steps echoed in the long room which, Ted suddenly realized, enveloped Thneedville. He was within The Wall and inside The Wall… was all the chemicals and grime from town.

Ted felt sick.

He was glad that she had handed him the mask and goggles since he wasn’t certain he could manage being in this place without them. Thankfully though his eyes weren’t running, yet. So he hurried along, walking his bike, since he doubted the narrow passage way along the ominous drop into the chemicals and grime was wide enough for him to ride on and he rather not fall into that stuff. It looked like it could eat concrete and spit it out like a grape. Ted continued walking until he found a bridge and hurried across it, continued along for another five minutes before he found a door that, again, was creaked open. Ted pushed his hand to the door and stepped out into the world and felt as if he was suddenly sucker punched in the gut.

The horizon spread out before him, and he saw nothing but blac, barren soil, and tree stumps. There was a thick fog that had settled in on the world, clouding his view from seeing too far into the distance but what he could see was hills. It was empty, devoid of life, movement, houses, as well as people. No signs of life anywhere, whatsoever. The skies were thick with black smog, the same that blotted out he sun in town but here it was far more noticable for there were no street lights to illuminate them. Ted stared, slack jawed, at the sight, and he was certain he felt tears prickling at the corner of his eyes.

But he had a job to do; he had a man to find amongst this wasteland. The young boy got onto his bike and cast one last glance at the massive Wall, before turning it on and riding off along a path that wound its way through the fog and darkness. He drove over what had once been a river bed, over a small bridge, and continued on. But then something caught his attention and he stopped his bike, and stared, because the ground near by had been misplaced.. and recently. As if someone had been digging at it with a shovel but it was only then that Ted realized there were more of them. At almost every stump, there was upturned earth. Almost as if it was… a…

Realization struck Ted as he stared at the mounds of earth. They were graves. There were people buried at the trees. People who had been sent Beyond The Wall. He had heard stories about that happening, in school, from other kids. That people who were too poor or too sick were sent away and never seen again. Some estimated they died in hospital, others believed they were sent 'away’. Obviously they had been sent somewhere far worse. They had been left out here to die alone, cold, in a fog that was probably not healthy at all. This only went to further cement the fact in Ted’s mind that there really was something wrong with Thneedville.

He lost track just how long he was riding his bike through the wasteland, following winding roads, making double backs, and retracing his tracks but out of the corner of his eye he saw movement. Ted couldn’t mistaken movement out here, it was the first living thing he had seen since stepping out into the wastelands. Whatever it was, it was tall, slender, and was moving. Was it the Once-ler? Or something else? What if there were monsters–no. Monsters weren’t real, monsters were for little kids to believe in, not 13 year old boys out in the middle of nowhere. Whatever it was, it wore a long coat, had a scarf around their face, and a tall hat atop their head.

The figure suddenly ran; and dashed behind some spiraled rock formations and Ted took off after it, off the beaten track he had been following, and chased after the being. The fact it hadn’t tried to attack him told him it wasn’t threatening yet at the same time, who else would be out here? Ted wished he could call out but the face mask he wore prevented his voice travelling too far. But it seemed no matter how fast he drove, he couldn’t catch up to the other but then he saw where it was running to.

A house.

He’d found it! It had to be him, it just had to be and his idea was confirmed when he saw 'keep out’ signs tacked up on a sign post near by.

Ted watched, suddenly amazed, when the being leaped. They jumped with a power he’d never seen before. They arched, shot into the sky like a rocket before landing atop of the house, opened a hatch and leaped down into the house. Getting off of his bike, Ted observed the house for it was the oddest looking thing he had ever seen. It was like a child's building blocks, stacked on top of one another and not entirely straight, either. It was tilting slightly, and it teetered on the edge of a giant cliff side and he dare not get too close tot he cliff to see how sheer a drop it held since he had a strong suspicion that it was a big drop.

There were gates around the house but they had rusted and fallen down in decay. A street sign that looked like it had been hand made and rather haphazardly at that illuminated the area, and three old, thin crows sat on top of it. On the street sign read 'The Street of the Lifted Lorax’. The crows suddenly cawed, and took off into the air before there was a sudden and loud noise that filled the air. It was a gun blast. Ted dove for cover as one of the birds suddenly fell out of the sky and landed right in front of Ted. The creature had been shot dead between the eyes.

He got up onto his feet again and stared at the house; now terrified. Whoever was in there, be it the Once-ler or someone else, was armed with weaponry. Surely, though, they could tell he was no threat to them. He was short for his age, wearing his jeans, his striped shirt, and his bike that had teetered and fallen over without anything to lean against. Besides, he had the nail, snail, and money didn’t he? It’s what his Grammy had told him to bring and he wasn’t about to turn around and back off now.

It took so much will power, still, to approach the aged, creaking house. Ted swallowed, behind the mask, as he reached the veranda. Reaching out with a shaking hand his finger pressed the door bell. An aged, almost Church sounding bell rung out and the door suddenly swung open. Seconds later something had knocked Ted over, swiping his feet out from under him. The young boy shouted in alarm and brought his hands up to his face as the muzzle of a weapon was suddenly thrust into his face. 

Ted could see nothing beyond the gun since he’d never had a gun so close to him before. He could smell gun powder, and soot. It had been tired recently. He tore his eyes away from the muzzle to stare up at the being holding it but he couldn’t see much for the were back lit from a light source inside the house. But he was tall. He was terribly tall, the same figure he’d been following. Ted couldn’t make out any features whatsoever outside of whiskers on his face.

“ _Who are you?!_ ” the voice of an old, possibly crazed, man demanded. “ _Who are you and what are you doing here?!_ ”

“I-I’m Ted, I’m Ted!” Ted squeaked, voice cracking as he did. “Oh man, oh man…!”

“Can’t you _read?_ ” snarled the man. “No one is supposed to _come here!_ ”

“L-look I, I came here… t-they said if I br-b–brought…” the young boy shakily put a hand into his pocket and pulled out the nail, snail and money and offered them with a shaking hand to the giant man. “t-t-these you–”

The man moved fast; incredibly fast. At one second Ted held his belongings and the next thing he knew they were gone, the gun was removed, but then the door was slammed on his face. He lay there, stunned, before slowly sitting up and then groaned. In his fear of being threatened he’d wet himself, and he only just now realized it. Ted sat there a moment longer in shame and disappointment, before getting to his feet and banged on the door. “H-hey! Come on! You’re supposed to tell me about the trees!”

“ _Trees?_ ” the voice suddenly came from above him and Ted had to back up to discover the old man had, some how, teleported himself to the very top window of the crooked, slanted house. He couldn’t make him out, again, thanks to boards of wood that covered the window. He was back lit, just like before, as he stared down at Ted from the room.

“Y-yes.”

“Trees.” whispered the man, before he suddenly broke into a cough so horrible you could hear his lungs rattling. The old man wheezed, hacked, coughed, and Ted heard him bring something up and was glad he wasn’t closer to see just what it was since it sounded like he’d just coughed up his lung.

“You… doing okay up there?” he asked.

“No. But that’s not what’s important now.” the Once-ler replied, voice wheezy and sounding as if he had smallish bees up his nose. “That’s not important now. What is… is you’re here. You’re here.”

“I sure am.” Ted said weakly.

“So you want to know about trees? Why they’re all gone?” asked the old man before he whispered something that Ted couldn’t hear.

“Sorry what?” he called, before a funnel attached to a long piece of pipe began to lower down to him. Was this to allow them to talk better, since neither could shout for long thanks to the smoke, or Ted’s mask. It came to a stop right before him and Ted leaned in to listen.

“ _IT’S BECAUSE OF ME!_ " 

He hadn’t expected the old man to shout and the young boy practically fell backwards.

"Oh and while you’re down there could you fetch my dinner?” the Once-ler suddenly asked.

“Excuse me?” Ted asked, 

“The bird. My dinner.”

Ted felt his stomach twist on itself as he realized the old man was asking him to pick up a dead bird with his bare hands. But if it would help him hear more, to learn more, and get about helping to fix Thneedville then he had no choice. A bucket on a string was suddenly lowered before him, and he lifted it off the hook, before walking off. What kind of a man was this? He ate birds. He lived alone. He drew weapons on young boys. How had anyone found him, much less survive, before? And how had he leaped up to his house like that, or run so fast? And that cough… it sounded very bad.

Using his foot and bucket Ted pushed the dead crow into the bucket before hooking it onto the hook again, and the bucket went zipping back up to the old man who pulled the bird into the window with him, grasping at it with green, aged gloves.

“Now.” the voice was back in the funnel near Ted’s face. “It all started a long time ago…”

_To be continued_


	3. The Lorax

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Once-ler continues his tale to Ted, telling him about how he first met the Guardian known as The Lorax but story time is cut short, and Ted must return home before he hears the whole tale. Will he go back for more?

The true story, the real story, started on a farm in the middle of nowhere. There was a house of wood cutters by trade; the Ler’s were their names. Long ago the father had left, abandoning his family behind to fend for themselves. In his abandonment he left his young wife, her sister, her sister’s husband and his three children. The first child was Once-ler, tall, skinny, gangly as a tree. Then there were the twins, Chet and Brett, boisterous and playful as any twin boys would be. After the abandonment of the father, however, life in the household took a sharp nose dive.

Once-ler, who looked so much like his father, was put upon.

“Stupid no-hoper!”

“Never going to go anywhere in life.”

“Won’t achieve a thing.”

“Should never ever happened!”

These and more insults soon became a daily occurrence for the young boy. Very quickly did he learn crying got him nowhere, since every time he did his mother or nearest guardian would groan and leave him alone. Now some would see these insults and live with them, have them feed bad thoughts, bad moods, and self consciousness. Once-ler, as he was known, was not like that. He took them as challenges. Tell him he’s going to fail? He’d try even harder. Say he won’t go anywhere in life, watch him plan to leave. The young man had grand schemes, big dreams, hopes the size of the world and even with his family laughing at his back he had set out into the world with nothing but a mule, a wagon, and an obscenely sense of optimism.

“Well, here I go Ma. Off to change the world with my thneed.” he announced as he loaded his cart with his precious belongings as well as the canvas built cottage he would one day live in, once he had found the place for him.

“Yes…” his mother said as she stood on the porch, her fox fur wrapped around her shoulders as always. “Just remember Oncie, if your invention ends up a failure and not as a success… well it wouldn’t surprise me at all!” she laughed, loudly, obscenely as the rest of the family joined in. His aunt, his uncle, and his twin brothers had one good long last laugh at his expense as he got into his wagon, grumbling.

“Laugh now. You’ll see! You’ll all see I’m going to make a difference!” he shouted angrily, and left his family far behind once his mule Melvin began to pull the wagon away from the desolate place he had called home. Cornfields spread in every direction, family farms stood in shambles from not being cared for, and rusted cars sat on the side of the roads. This was where Once-ler had been born and raised; here he’d spent his childhood hiding from his family in the tall corn stalks before he got too tall to do it because my word was he tall. He was six foot four, and incredibly slender and lean. But that didn’t mean he was as push over, of course not.

He knew how to swing an axe. His whole family had been loggers, woodsmen, tree choppers. It had been the family job for generations, even his dear mother and aunt knew how to swing an axe properly and so he had muscles and good strength in his upper arms and chest. On top of that he was a wicked shot with a gun, as well. He had gone hunting for game, naturally, with his brothers and since they were no-hopers it was up to him to shoot ducks, geese, and other such animals when it was the season for it. One could underestimate him very easily.

“I travelled for months.” the old man recanted down the funnel, “For so long I searched far and wide, near and far, up and down, loop-dee-loop… but I had no luck. I just couldn’t find the right material for my thneed, ordinary wool wasn’t good enough you see, it didn’t stretch right. It had holes… nothing was working… and it was really starting to get me down because I did not want to end up going home a failure.”

“No .. of course not.” Ted commented since imagining going back home a failure to those people would have been like a death sentence.

“But then, finally one day… I found paradise…”

It was a valley unlike any he had ever seen before. It seemed stretch on for eternity with thick, green grass growing out of the ground. There were bushes, beautifully colorful flowers, other small plants, and there was a beautiful long stream running through the scenery that became a river, and then a waterfall far in the distance. It was like something out of a fairy tale, something that shouldn’t or couldn’t be possible in a world as ugly as the one Once-ler had come from. On top of that the animals were here, as well. Brown Bar-ba-loots frisking about in their Bar-ba-loot suits beneath the trees, meanwhile the songs of the Swomee-Swans sung out in space accompanied by the hums of the Humming Fish who splashed merrily around in the water.

Once-ler had never seen such a beautiful place in all of his life because on top of all the beautiful things just listened, what he had focused on were the trees. They towered above him, their trunks thin and slender with grey and white stripes. Their leaves, though, were tufts. Beautiful soft, silky tufts that came in pink, red, yellow and orange. The young man reached out and touched one of the tufts and felt just how soft and smooth it was and he was floored. Softer than silk itself! And their smell, oh their scent was just like fresh butterfly milk. He had never felt so lucky, so loved by the world and by chance itself.

“This is it, this is the place!” he declared at the top of his lungs. “These trees, they have just what I need for my thneed!”

First things were first though, he needed a place to live. Luckily he had loaded his cart with all manner of things to help him set up in his new home and it wasn’t too long that he had set up a small cottage. The walls were thin, made of material, the floor was flexible wood and he had unloaded his furniture (a mattress, bed frame, ice box, a small stove, and other assorted things) into the cottage as well. Soon it was all set, ready and waiting for him to make a life here. Grinning to himself, the tall, slender young man of only twenty five knew what had to be done first of all… he needed food.

He cleaned out his trusty shot gun, making sure all the parts were as clean as he could make them, and loaded them with the bullets. Being a farm boy, Once-ler had long since accepted animals had to die to give food; after all he was the one who went hunting for the family. He wondered who would hunt for them now… probably his aunt. She was a frightfully terrifying woman to behold any animal may well keel over as soon as she walked into their woods. Whistling to himself Once-ler headed out into the forest, shotgun in hand. It wasn’t long before he found a flock of Swomee Swans flying in lazy circles in the sky.

“Bingo.” he whispered. The birds were beautiful yes, with long lovely necks, noble breasts, and a plumage of a brilliant orange gold that stood out amongst the trees. He lifted his shot gun, took aim, hoped they tasted as good as they looked, and pulled the trigger. The birds scattered instantly, their songs turning into squawks of alarm and fear as one of them plummeted to the ground already dead. If he was one thing in this world, it was a good shot. “Got ya!” Once-ler called as he ran out across the grass, over the stream, and picked up the bird by the legs. “Oh boy you’re a big one!” he grinned, “You’re gonna feed me for days!”

Naturally the bird had to be prepared. Wings plucked, head chopped off, and hung upside down to drain all the blood but it was all part and parcel of eating in the wild.

“All right then,” he said as he cleaned his blood stained hands in the stream, “Now that’s done I got some chopping to do.” he grabbed his trusty axe that he had brought out with him and made his way out into the valley again but this time he wasn’t hunting for food but something far more precious. Naturally, now the animals were curious, but far more scared of the man and knew better not to approach. They watched him from afar but dare not get too close unless he would deliver death upon them, as well.

He stood before a giant pink tufted Truffula tree, and he gazed in wonder at it. The tufts were beautiful, and it was so tall… probably well over fifty years old. The oak on the trunk was grey and white striped, similar to the trousers he wore, and it was truly beautiful. But, business was business and he had a job to do. “Here we go, about to change the world.” he said to himself and he readied his axe, and began to swing at the trunk. The sounds echoed out into the forest, sending more birds into the skies. With every heavy swing of his axe was a heavy ‘thunk’ sound as his axe worked away at the tree and if he could have seen the animals faces he may have understood he was doing something frightfully bad.

They were filled with terror, almost as much as when he had shot the Swomee swan. The birds took to the air, the fish to the water, and the bar-ba-loots climbed their trees for safety and hid in the bushes. The noise continued until, finally, the tree gave an awfully loud groan like an old man dying in his bed, before it creaked and toppled over. Once-ler watched, axe now set on his shoulder, watching proudly as he had felled the mighty tree. It landed heavily, and he smiled wider still. “Phase one, complete.” he announced as he grabbed the trunk in his gloved green hands and after getting a good grip, hoisted it under one arm and dragged the trunk back towards his cottage.

“But,” the old man’s voice buzzed through the funnel, “little did I know that by chopping down that tree I had summoned a creature unlike any I’d ever seen before. The legendary… guardian of the forest. The Lorax.”

Ted had to jump because at that very moment in which the old man had announced the creatures name there was a sudden roll of thunder and clap of lightning making the moment seem even more dramatic than it normally would be.

“Guardian?” Ted asked shakily.

“Guardian…” the old man whispered quietly into the funnel and Ted could hear the pained emotion behind his words. He spoke of longing, of time long since past, maybe even friendship? It was hard to tell since he was unable to see his face from down here but whatever this Lorax was, it had meant the world to this man at one point.

The tree stump had sat there, as tree stumps were known to do. The nearest animals watched it carefully but dare not approach since the sight of a tree that had been felled by something besides nature itself, wild fire, or old age was something they had never seen before. Truffula trees lived a long, long time, and the oldest one in this forest was well over a couple hundreds years old. But like any tree they had to die, some of them rotting, others getting diseases and dying. But that was life; you live, you die. But never had one been killed so viciously before.

But the tree stump suddenly began to shake. The air itself suddenly became very tense, and the clouds in the sky began to rumble and roar as if a storm was approaching. Once-ler, having just reached his cottage, stroked his upper lip before vanishing inside to grab the things he’d need to harvest the tufts without damaging them and in doing so missed the arrival of a being that would no doubt change his life as much as he was going to change his. Lightning shot from the skies, pierced the wood stump, lit up the skies like flames before vanishing as if nothing had happened.

It was then the creature emerged from the stump and it had to be the strangest 'birth’ in the world. The animal, whatever it was, stretched arms out of the trunk before it pulled the rest of itself out but it was far larger than the tree stump. It stood at least five foot in total and had orange fur that covered its body from head to toe. It had yellow eyebrows and a luscious looking moustache that wafted in the breeze. It also had a yellow mane that ran around its neck and down its back resulting in a long flowing orange and yellow tail that looked like it should belong to a horse. Its arms and feet ended in three digits, and the upper body strength was pronounced by muscles beneath the fur.

As soon as it was free of the tree it collapsed onto its four legs, and shook itself. Where it stepped assorted flowers suddenly bloomed and the second it stepped away they shriveled and died, returning to the Earth as if nothing happened. Its eyes opened, revealing eyes that looked so very old, aged, and wise yet at the same time innocent and new to the world. They were a brilliant shade of green, one of which nobody had seen before. Blinking its lids slowly the creature, the Lorax, turned and sniffed at the tree stump a few times before tilting its head back and gave out a mournful sound.

Once-ler had missed all of this, and finally exited his cottage with something that looked like a large comb. He used it to tug the tufts free of the tree and into a sack. This was exciting; it was so very exciting for him. All his life he had searched for trees, such trees like these and they were going to help make his thneed and make him rich and famous. So lost in his day dreams was he, he didn’t hear the creature approach him from behind. It was only when he finally turned around did he see the creature standing there before him; orange and yellow fur, ageless eyes and flowers sprouting around its four feet.

“ARGH!” Once-ler yelled in alarm as he fell over his own legs and backed away from the animal, whatever it was.

“Did you chop down this tree?” it asked, though, Once-ler swore it asked because the creatures’ mouth did not move when it spoke. It was more like the voice was within Once-ler’s own mind, speaking in a voice and accent he’d never heard before.

“W-what are–”

“Did you chop down this tree?” it asked again.

“…no…?” Once-ler asked, voice tiny.

“Don’t you lie to me. I know you did.” the creature frowned.

“What are you?” the young man asked finally, voice shrill and tiny.

It stood back and held its head high, its nose sniffing at the air. “I am The Lorax. I speak for the trees for the trees have no tongues.” the Lorax turned its head back to Once-ler and took a step forward, the flowers beneath its feet dying only for fresh ones to appear where it stepped. “And you, sir, have just chopped down one of my Truffula trees. I will not stand for this.”

Once-ler knew if this animal wanted to it could kill him; it looked strong enough. Why had he left his gun inside? His eyes went to the axe by the tree and was tempted to make a lunge for it but knew if he did the animal would no doubt attack without remorse and he’d be dead in seconds. He swallowed harshly before getting to his feet; he was taller, that was good. It gave him a good advantage, a sense of importance.

“Yeah well. I’m sorry but I’m not going anywhere. I, I took a lot of steps to get here! I left home, I’ve been wandering for so long and this is my chance! I’m not, not about to have some… some mind talky orange thing like you tell me to leave! I’m sorry, but I’m not going anywhere.” he folded his arms over his chest.

The Lorax regarded him quietly, before the fur along its back began to bristle and it bared its teeth; revealing a mix of sharp canine teeth but also grass eating teeth. It did not growl, though. “So be it.” said the Lorax. “But if you are not gone by the time the sun sets upon the valley, all the forces of nature shall be unleashed upon you, and curse you till the end of your days. You have been warned.” it said, its voice deep and resonating within Once-ler’s head, causing the young man to take a few hurried steps back in alarm. The creature stood there, before it slowly backed up, turned, and walked away. Once-ler watched it move, watched the flowers sprout beneath its feet before dying to nothing.

“…y-yeah. Yeah right. Curse me. Good luck with that!” he called after the animals retreating back, feeling braver now it was walking away. “I’m not leaving! I’m sorry to disappoint you, Mustache!”

He stood there, glaring at the retreating back, before he crouched down and went back to work at harvesting his tufts. How dare that… that thing get into his head like that! Saying it was his tree, trees don’t belong to anyone! They were free game, and he had as much right to them as the Lorax did. He had a thneed to make, and turning these tufts into something knittable would take a while but it would be worth it. It would so, so be worth being threatened with a curse if it meant being able to hold his thneed in his hands.

“But I didn’t listen to his warning, I was a young stupid fool back then and I didn’t realize the weight behind what had just spoken to me, what had just happened.” the old Once-ler’s voice said, before having to stop his tale to cough violently. It really did sound bad, Ted could almost hear the rattling of his lungs and the weight of phlegm within his throat but it just wasn’t going to dislodge itself it seemed no matter how hard the old man coughed.

“So did he curse you? Did he really lay a curse on you?” Ted asked.

“It’s time to go.” the old man said.

“What? No! You can’t just stop like–”

The door to the house suddenly swung open and Ted took a few hurried steps back as the man was suddenly there, standing before him, a lit cigar held tightly between his teeth. He had a long, billowing, dusty green coat on. He had green gloves that covered his hands, vanishing up the heavy looking sleeves of the coat. His long pink scarf was frayed at the ends, and there were stains on it that looked like old, dried blood as well as dirt and mud. He had goggles on over his eyes making it impossible for Ted to make out too many distinguishing features but what he did have was a moustache. The old man stood there, before reaching back into the house and pulled out a shot gun and pushed it into a holster against his back, before retrieving two smaller guns and put them into their holders at his hips.

“I need to take you back to Thneedville.” Once-ler said. “It’s well past curfew now.”

“You know about…”

“I know everything, I’ve been watching that city since forever! Now come on, get on your bike.” the old man strode past him and as he did, Ted could make out the sound of metal, somewhere. He observed the weaponry the man was wearing, and wondered if he had more on beneath his jacket.

“You sure you can keep up with me?” Ted asked as he approached his bike and pulled it up off the ground.

“I can keep up with anyone.” Once-ler whispered. “I’ve arranged for your Grandmother to be waiting for you at one of her drop off points; she’ll take you home safely.”

“Wait a second you… you arranged this?” the young boys eyes widened beneath his goggles as he got onto his bike. “You knew I was coming?”

“Not when. But I knew you’d be here eventually.” he watched as the Once-ler adjusted his goggles, and tied his scarf tighter around his neck. “The night you would, she would be waiting for you. And we can’t risk your grandmother being found out. She’s risked so much for me as it is I can’t ask any more.”

Ted seriously wondered just how 'well’ this old man knew his grandmother. Growing up, Ted had never heard of a grandfather. He had expected he had died, or had left his grandmother fairly early on since even his mother never spoke of a father. And here he was learning his grandmother was head of a vigilante group working to topple O'Hare, and she was in constant touch with an equally old man who lived out in the toxic wasteland that surrounded the town. He wanted to out right ask, but felt that was too much to ask. He started up his bike and began to drive across the ground and sure enough… the old man kept up with him.

Once-ler even over took him at some point, waving with a hand, gesturing for Ted to follow him. They took a zigzagging path way through the tree stumps and mounds of dirt. While he had many probing answers, one just had to be asked.

“They’re graves aren’t they?” he asked as he rode.

“Perspective. I like that.” Once-ler said back. “Yes. They’re all graves. When O'Hare sends the sick, or the weak and poor, over the wall they stand no chance. So used to living in his 'clean’ environment their bodies can’t adapt. I try to help. I really do. I take them to my home. I feed them and look after them but. But none of them survive. So I have to bury them. Give them some kind of dignity. Especially the babies.”

“Babies?!” Ted almost fell off of his bike.

“Not now. Turn off your bike.”

Ted did, grasping it firmly in his fists. Babies? What babies? Were there babies out here? Where? Were they dead too? Of course they had to; if grown adults couldn’t adapt how could a baby… he looked up and saw The Wall standing there, bold as brass. Besides him, the old man stood, surveying it silently, waiting. Finally he seemed to spot something and Ted yelped when he suddenly found himself being pulled into the old man’s arms, along with his bike. Once-ler ran at the wall with full force for a man his age it was quite impressive but the next thing Ted knew they were flying through the air. The old man had jumped; and with the dexterity of a jumping spider at that.

They landed on top of the wall, and the old man jumped again; they were back in Thneedville. There, waiting in the shadows, Ted could see the outline of his grandmother. He began to talk but she held her hand up to silence him. The teenager rushed to his grandmother and she embraced him tightly in a way that spoke volumes. Maybe she feared she would never see him again, that he’d be found out. Ted said nothing, before he pulled his mask off and by then Once-ler had approached them. His hand was to his grandmother’s back and he watched them closely; how their eyes met, how they were speaking without the use of words at all. The old man then caressed her cheek gently and she pressed her hand to his, holding it against hers for as long as she could.

“Hey what’s that?” a voice from down the way asked.

Ted and his grandmother were suddenly running, pushed away by the old man.

“DEATH TO O'HARE!” Ted heard the old man suddenly scream as sounds of gunfire filled the air. “THE LORAX WILL RISE AGAIN!”

“Don’t turn back. Don’t look back. Keep running. Keep following me. Stay close to me.” his grandmother’s words kept Ted calm. “I know a way, a way without being seen just stay with me Ted, stay with me.”

So many emotions ran through Ted’s mind, now. How could the Once-ler jump so high? Was the Lorax real? Had it all been a dream of a young man? What was his connection to his grandmother? Would they get home safe again? Would he even see his mother again? The guns, they were shooting; had they hit the old man? Would he be brave enough to go back to him a second time, to hear the rest of the tale of what happened to the trees?

And what did he mean that the Lorax would rise again..?

~*~

A squat, short man, sat behind a powerfully huge, intimidating desk. You couldn’t see much of him thanks to the shadows he sat in, but you could tell he was important. This man knew the city, he owned, and ran the city. His steel grey eyes stared out at the city from his window within the floating blimp that slowly travelled the city, spewing grime into the air as it went. O'Hare linked his fingers together slowly as a door opened.

“Report?” he asked.

“He was in the city again, Sir.”

“What.” O'Hare whispered.

“H-he was in the city again, S-sir… he. He killed four guards, Sir.”

“WHAT.” O'Hare screamed as the poor assistant shivered beneath the powerful gaze of the short man. “HE CONTINUES TO MAKE A MOCKERY OF ME! Breaking into my town, killing my guards, stealing my goods! He’s a mad man! A MAD MAN. And NONE of you have the balls to take him down! How old is this man now?! Eighty? Ninety? AND YET HE CONTINUES TO RUN RINGS AROUND THE LOT OF YOU! More and more every year, every single year he’s getting bolder. He has contacts, oh I know he does. Why else would he be here, why else would he keep coming back? IT DRIVES ME MAD!”

He took a few deep, calming breaths, and smoothed his fingers against his black eyebrows.

“Up security. Double patrols. I want him and his little band of terrorists brought down. By this weeks end. Or so help you God…”

The assistant ran from the room as fast as he could, knowing that when O'Hare threatened something you did not take it lightly. This old man, the Once-ler, had been a thorn in his side for decades now. His actions were getting bolder, louder, people were beginning to learn more about him and that was a worrisome thing. A revolution, an attack, to bring down O'Hare felt as if it was the next logical step in his plan and O'Hare loved being in control. He loved being in charge, and he wasn’t about to give it up for anybody… especially not a crazy old man.

_To be continued_


	4. Norma and Once-ler

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ted gets home safe and sound, but a lot more is going on behind the scenes than one might think.

The panic in the air was still thick as Grammy Norma’s hand held tightly onto Ted’s as they ran through the streets. It wasn’t until they were almost home did the young boy realize he had forgotten his bike in all the commotion but one could barely blame him. When there was gun fire in the air, your grandmother pulling you along in a run he never thought she’d be capable of, and having a vigilante at your back shooting back at guards you tended to forget important things like that. He felt his stomach empty out and he felt sick; what if they found the bike? What if they traced it to him being out after curfew? His grip on his her hand tightened greatly and she squeezed back just as tightly.

“How?” Ted asked shakily as they snuck back into the house carefully, quietly, so not to wake his mother even if she was a deep sleeper. “H-how do you know that… Grammy, it’s…”

“Shhh.” she hushed him softly, pressing a finger to his lips. “Questions can come when you’re not smelling of dirt and little accidents.” she said, causing the teenager to flush since he had out right forgotten that he had wet himself when the Once-ler had first appeared before him, shotgun in hand and pointing it right at his face.

“R-right…” he stammered before removing his shoes and making his way upstairs to the bathroom to take care of business. He decided on a shower, and while he was washing the smell of the wasteland out of his skin and hair, his mind continued to buzz with questions. So the Once-ler claimed to be the one responsible for the destruction outside, but how? He was just one man. No lone man could go around chopping down every tree and even if he was, what of this Lorax creature? Was it actually real? Or was it just the figment of the young Once-ler’s imagination, a voice of reason in a strange land? If it was real why would it allow the destruction of a whole environment? And what of his Grandmother, how in the heck did she get involved in all of this? Since when could she run so fast? How could a man as old as the Once-ler run so fast, and be so strong? He had jumped The Wall; something nobody was capable of doing.

How didn’t the whole town know of this man? Had O'Hare stamped out any and all evidence of his existence? Why? Surely one man couldn’t be so much of a threat… but then again… this wasn’t just any man. This was an old man living out in an environment that choked people to death if they remained exposed for too long. He ran across the fields with such energy you would swear he was twenty years old rather than… however old he was. He wasn’t afraid to use his weapons either, he killed for his own dinner, as well as relied upon drop offs by his own grandmother. He wasn’t a weak, frail old man. Not at all like the old men Ted saw in town, having grown grey and fat and pampered. He had never met anyone like Once-ler before in all of his life, and he had to admit the adrenaline was good. It had been wonderful. To think, he may even end up helping him in some way…

“You have a lot of questions don’t you?” Ted hadn’t expected to find his Grammy in his bedroom when he returned to it; the blinds were drawn, the lights were out, and she was sitting in the chair by his desk.

Hair still damp, Ted nodded his head.

“You can ask, you have all the right to ask after what just happened.” Norma said as she settled in her chair as Ted climbed onto his bed like a little boy about to get a bedtime story. So many times in his youth had she done that, while her daughter Helen was out working late. She would grab a picture book and read the little boy stories until he fell asleep. The stories she had now, though, none of them had happy endings. Nobody swooped in to save the day at the last second, and true love did not prevail.

“How do you know him? The Once-ler? How, how did he recruit you?” Ted asked.

“Oh now that will overlap with his story with you, but… seeing how this is from my point of view…”

Ted settled back as his grandmother set the stage for him, informing him of the town known as Greenville. It was a small, pleasant, quaint town that had been set up not too far from the Truffula Tree valley. The people there were kind enough, but very wary of outsiders so one could understand their curiosity and wariness when a six foot four man wearing grey clothing walked out of the forest one day, guitar in arm, and a mule walking along besides him. Norma had been a young woman at the time, barely twenty five, and she had stood to the side and watched as this strange man had tied up his mule and stood in the very centre of town.

“Ladies and gentlemen could I have your attention please!” the Once-ler called, grinning like a professional showman when those gathered did indeed give him their attention. Hanging around his neck was a strange pink thing that looked like a scarf, only much thicker. “Thank you.” he said, placing a hand to his heat. “Ladies and gentlemen let me introduce to you the revolutionary product that is made of 100% natural fibers, the…” with a flourish he had pulled the creation off of his neck and revealed it to the world. “Thneed! Yes that’s right ladies and gentlemen the Thneed is a fine thing that all people need, the Thneed is good, the Thneed is great and it’s just three ninety eight!”

Oh how he had spieled back then, how he had listed so many things that the Thneed could do. He had even gotten hold of his guitar and begun to play a song, singing on top of that, about the uses of the Thneed. Norma had found the whole thing a little silly, and it was obvious the wary village folk weren’t taken by him or his Thneed since he wasn’t two bars into his song before a tomato smacked him straight in the face.

“He got a tomato to the face?!” Ted asked, grinning, despite himself. The idea of that rough, tough old man who had just ran back to Thneedville with him, the old man who had shot a bird out of the sky in front of him, as an awkward gangly thing who had food thrown at him was just hilarious.

“Yes, yes he did. I won’t deny I didn’t find it funny because it was!” Norma giggled at the memory, of him flailing around and yelling back when people hurled fruit and vegetables at him. “But still I felt sorry for him so after everyone left I hung behind and we got to talking, as young people are want to do. Of course he tried selling me his Thneed but I politely declined, mainly since I had no money on me at the time.” Norma went on to explain, “But he was anything but persistent, you see–”

“Ma!”

Norma and Ted turned their heads when they saw Helen standing in the door way in her dressing gown, her curly brown hair covered with a hair net. “Oh my God, Ma, what are you two doing?” she asked.

“Oh hello dear.” the grandmother greeted sweetly. “Did we wake you?”

“Why is there filth on the floor?” Helen demanded, “You, which… ggh! Ma if you’ve dragged Ted into ya little mission I swear ta God–”

“Oh hush!” Norma scolded. “He’s old enough, you know he is. Every one in town is old enough to know things are wrong and not as safe and happy as they think!”

“But if he’s taken away, if he…!” the woman walked into the room and pulled Ted up off his bed and into her arms. Were her cheeks wet? “I’m not going to have what happened to his father happen to him too. You can’t ask me ta lose him too.”

“Your husband was a good man. A strong man.” the older woman replied softly, calmly as well as kind. “He fought for the freedom of his family and the people of this town until he had nothing left to give.”

“He shoulda stayed home safe with me, with us!” Helen said, arms still protectively wrapped around her son, her only child in the world. “Instead of runnin’ off on a crusade ‘n gettin’ wound up with that… that… terrorist!”

“The Once-ler is not a terrorist!” Norma gasped, getting to her feet, grabbing her walking stick. “He’s a voice, he’s a figure! He’s a man who’s not afraid of O'Hare and is showing all of us he shouldn’t be in charge!”

“How many, Ma? How many people have this man either killed or been responsible for the deaths of?” demanded Helen, “It may not get to the news but I know his hands ain’t clean!”

“You’re right they’re not clean. His whole life is anything but clean but he’s cleaning it the only way that will work, now.” she said gravely, “The time for talk has long since passed.”

“So what, violence is the answer now?” Helen asked.

“I don’t know.” Helen said softly, since honest to God she really had no idea.

Ted had been struck dumb by the whole argument happening around him since he had never witnessed his mother and grandmother argue like this. Sure his Grammy Norma got on his Ma’s bad side now and then but always in jest, but never like this. And the mention of his father… Ted looked up at his mother, eyes full of even more questions. His father had known the Once-ler as well? Ted knew his father had died when he was a toddler, but now he was seriously wondering just how. Had he been taken away for questioning? Had he been killed in an incident involving the old man? Would the Once-ler even answer these questions if he asked?

“You, get ta bed. Now.” Helen pulled the sheets back and Ted climbed in quick smart, knowing now wasn’t the time to argue with his mother. She caressed his face, feeling him as if to ensure he was really here, before kissing his cheeks twice. “Go to sleep.” she whispered before turning to her mother, and even if her back was to Ted he could all but sense her glare. “To bed, Ma. Now. No more stories about the past.”

“You’re so caged by your fears, Helen.” Norma said as she got out of the chair and walked to the door. “I feel sorry for you.”

“Don’t feel sorry for me, Ma.” Helen said quietly as she followed her out and began to close the door, before looking back at Ted. She watched him, laying there in bed, her heart aching. He was so much like his father, even more so than she had first thought by just looks alone. He had his spirit, that fire within him and it had suddenly been sparked by the want of a tree. She knew by now he must have had to have run out beyond the wall and the fact alone he was back, in one piece, was a miracle. But miracles were far and few between, and she knew O'Hare wasn’t above hurting children to prove a point. Slowly, carefully, she closed his door.

Norma had already made her way back to her room by the time Helen shut Ted’s door, the old woman huffing to herself as she leaned against the door, rubbing her hand over her tired eyelids. Her daughter had reason to worry, to fear, ever since what happened to Ted’s father but they really shouldn’t allow fear to rule them like this. What kind of life is it?

“She’s highly opinionated. I wonder where she gets it from?” his voice surprised her at first but Norma collected herself quickly; maybe in her youth she would have gasped or maybe even shriek at finding a man sitting in her bedroom but this just wasn’t any man. His body was outlined by the sickly pale white street lights outside and she could see his whiskers, the goggles covering his eyes and his hat whose brim had a collection of bullets waiting to be used by the weapon that he had set across his lap.

“Once-ler,” she whispered as she hurried over to him, dropping her cane as she did and touched his face. “You shouldn’t have came here.” but she was glad he had, of course she was.

“I had to.” he replied as the cigar in his teeth glowed in the darkness. “Had to make sure you 'n Teddy got home safe.”

“Always looking out for me aren’t you?” Norma asked before she noticed something on his left arm; it was dark, and whatever it was it dribbled down his slender arm to stain his green glove. “Oncie!” she gasped this time, unable to help herself. “You’re hit!”

“Took them long enough to get better at aiming.” he grumbled as she rushed to the window and pulled the blinds shut and turned on her bedside light. She searched under her bed for her medical kit as the old man pulled his long green glove off. His hands were a mass of scarring and lacerations, his thumb nail was missing entirely and on his ring finger there was a thin band. He undid the front of his jacket and slowly eased it down off of his shoulders, hissing as the material scraped against the bullet wound. “Lucky it went clear through.” he said.

“Lucky, hmmhm. You have a funny way of looking at things, Oncie.” she said as she set the kit on her bed and turned on the bedside table’s lamp, illuminating the room.

“Least I don’t have to dig any bullets out this time?” he offered her a weak grin before she plucked the cigar from his teeth. “Hey!”

“No smoking during surgery.” she said him curtly and put it out.

In the end, Norma only had to end up stitching up the exit wound since Once-ler could reach the entry point easily. The old man’s eyes narrowed behind his goggles as he concentrated on stitching up the wound after it was cleaned up, gritting his teeth as he did. Norma watched him, worry in her eyes. He could barely feel even pain any more, and it was harrowing to see this man whom she had first met all those years ago being pelted with tomatoes now being pelted with bullets. He had to stop, though, almost done to turn his head away and he began to cough. He smothered his mouth with his hand, trying to silence the noise so he wouldn’t be overheard and Norma rushed to him, rubbing at his back.

When he’d finally stopped he pulled his hand back and glared at the blood that now stained the palm of his hand. “It’s getting worse.” he muttered before wiping his hand on his scarf, staining it with his spit and blood before picking up his needle again and going right back to patching up his arm.

Norma wanted to tell him to stop, that he had to stop this crazy suicidal mission he had set himself on but she had been telling him this for decades now. How she loathed to see him reduced to this, when he had once been so great… at least, for a while. She rubbed his back tenderly, humming a lullaby before it was her turn to patch up the other side of his arm which she did with precision. She may not have been skilled as he was, but she had quickly learned how to tend to the kinds of injuries he would get.

“…he forgot his bike.” Once-ler said quietly.

“I know.” Norma whispered.

“It could be tracked to him.”

“I know.” she said again.

“We’re lucky, then.”

“Lucky, again? How?” Norma glanced up at him.

He grinned in the lamp light. “I brought it back with me. It’s got a few scratches but it’s still good.”

“You… are a life saver.” she knew this to be true for if the guards had gotten hold of Ted’s bike its license plate could be tracked back to them, and already their family had been involved with security and questioning by way of Ted’s father, putting them already on the 'interest’ list but to have them come up again… well. It wouldn’t be good.

“Hey don’t worry,” he reached out and rubbed her cheek with his hand. “I told you I’ll watch you all and I meant it. Though… I did listen in on Helen and you… terrorist, is that what they say about me?”

“Those who know.” Norma sighed. “I just wish she wasn’t so afraid.”

“You can’t blame her. She lost her husband. …and in a way she lost her father too.”

“She refuses to acknowledge your existence. I doubt she’d accept you as her father any time soon.” she sighed.

“Then that’s her choice. I’m already pushing enough as it is, I don’t wanna mess up with this too.” Once-ler muttered.

“Mm.” Norma hummed before she began to wrap up the injury in a long winding bandage. “Try to not get this dirty, keep it clean and dry. Last thing you need is an infection…” he was strong physically, of course he was. Even at his age, seventy seven, his arms were as strong as they were the first time she’d seen him shirtless all those years ago. How strapping, handsome and young he had been and his body had been that of a work man’s body. A man who knew how to swing an axe, shoot, run, and do all those rough manly things that Norma had fallen so quickly over in her youth. Just how he managed, with as sickly as he was, she didn’t know but she was grateful at the same time. To imagine him withering away… like what happened to…

“Thank you.” she was pulled out of her thoughts by his words, and blinked to see he had already tugged his green jacket back on, and was tugging his blood stained glove back on. “I’ll see you Friday?” he asked, and she could hear the faintest hints of hope in his voice.

“Of course, you old goat.” she smiled as she smoothed out his tattered, stained scarf as it hung around his neck. “Only one thing would ever keep me from doing that.”

The old Once-ler stood there in her room, suddenly feeling so very alone and very childish. For years they had been doing this, her sneaking him supplies out through a channel of connections within the city. Each Friday a different meeting place, he would be waiting for her and oh how his heart would still ache at the sight of her just how it always had done. He’d done so much to her world, her life, and he wondered whatever it was in life he’d done to deserve a woman like this by his side… even if she wasn’t technically at his side, she always was with him in some way. Norma regarded him standing there in her room, slinging the gun back into its holster on his back, and sighed. She tugged a necklace out from under her dress, the thin gold chain revealing a gold band that matched the one Once-ler wore on his finger.

“One day.” Norma said quietly as she took his hand into hers, “One day, Oncie.”

He gave no answer to that, instead he bent down and swiftly kissed her forehead since he dare not kiss her lips. He suddenly rushed from her, holding her hand as long as he could before his long fingers slipped from hers. He threw the blinds open and lifted his right arm and aimed it at the nearest street lamp. Something small shot out from up his sleeve and the light went out without a noise. He then leaped out of the window and she watched as his coat tails slipped out of sight. Norma hurried to the window and stared down, watching him bounce off one of the inflatable bushes before he took off into the shadows and was soon gone.

“My husband, the terrorist-vigilante.” Norma sighed as she leaned on the window sill, a sad, though proud, smile on her face. “Mother always said I loved the bad boys…”

_To be continued_


	5. The Outcast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Once-ler comes across somebody evicted from the city of Thneedville. Ted has words with his mother, before running into trouble…

He had just made it over the wall and went falling to the ground below when he heard a noise from around the curve of the wall; a noise that Once-ler knew all too well, a noise that he feared hearing every day of his life since this horrible, disgusting wall had gone up around the town that he himself had designed. After having rolled a few times after landing, managing to not grunt or even hiss when his bandaged arm hit the dead ground as he rolled. The man came to a stop and pushed himself to his feet immediately and ran for cover.

“No please, god no I’ll pay I swear!”

“Take everything we have please don’t do this!”

“I’m afraid we can’t do that.”

“You can’t do this!”

“We can and we are.”

Once-ler pressed himself against the vast metallic wall and dare not even to try and see around the curve; he knew this routine. Somebody was being sent beyond The Wall. Whatever the reason it was hardly mattered, there were so many reasons why people were cast out it was ridiculous. O'Hare was a maniac, a controlling megalomaniac who wanted perfection even if it was an ugly perfection.

“Please no, no!”

Then he heard the thud, and a woman scream. Judging by the sound a guard had hit somebody in the head with their gun to knock them back, though he heard another stumble told him there were two people. A couple being sent out?

“M-mommy, daddy…”

The sound of a child’s voice turned Once-ler’s blood cold in its veins as he listened for the movement; the shuffled foot steps. The woman was screaming now, pleading, but the guards were obviously not having any of this. There were more pleads, more cries falling on deaf ears before he heard the heavy thud of the doors sealing shut. The old man waited, holding his breath, praying to whatever God might look down upon a man like him that it wasn’t what he thought…

…but then he heard the sobbing of a child and he wanted to scream. A child? Sent out into this environment. The old man rushed around immediately, trying to not look intimidating but that was impossible when you had glowing goggles, a flapping jacket, a long blood stained scarf and a top hat on. What he found was a small boy, not even four years old, laying on the floor, where he’d been thrown by the guard. He looked very sick, too sick. His eyes were sunken in, his skin a pale sickly color and his clothes hung off him loosely.

Seeing the approaching man the little boy shrieked in fear but had little to no energy to run, or even try to get up from where he’d been thrown. Once-ler came to kneel besides him, “It’s all right. I won’t hurt you. Here, here put this on.” he pushed the small gas mask onto the child’s head, having to tighten the straps. “I’m here to look after you. What’s your name? Tell me your name.” he said as he began to pull the child into his arms, and was alarmed to discover how skinny and light he was.

“Wes… Wesley… I want my mommy…” his eyes welled with tears as the old man held him against his chest, even going so far to open up his jacket to hold the shivering child closer since it was deathly cold out here this time of night, and the boy was already partly frozen by those flimsy clothes he wore.

“I know you do kid. I know.” Once-ler said as he began to run across the black, dead fields, avoiding the mounds of dirt besides the tree stumps. “Let’s get you somewhere warm, get some food in you. Okay?”

He got no answer; the child was passed out, either exhausted from his illness or from the stress, Once-ler didn’t know but what he did know is this was going to be one of those nights and even if his right arm was beginning to burn with the familiar pain of a healing wound being stressed he held the child still. He was all he had, now, and he was damned if he would abandon him out here.

~*~

“I keep telling you people why don’t you just track the wiry old fool?” O'Hare asked as he sat at his impressive desk again, this time there were men in suits stood across from him. None of them looked too pleased to be here… who would ever look forward to being called into O'Hare’s office like this? Not many.

“We reported, Sir. He. He has traps up. If we dare attempt to approach his base…” one of the men said who had massive scarring down the left side of his face, “We-well. You remember what happened last year in June…”

“I remember, Marcus. He blew up ten of your men and shot the rest between the eyes. You’re lucky to be alive at all.” grumbled O'Hare, “But this isn’t good enough. He’s planning something. He’s getting crazier every other week he’s breaking in now, and these, these acts of vandalism…!”

O'Hare turned his head to gesture to a large, projected collection of electronic images. There were walls all across Thneedville, plastered with posters of O'Hare’s face and Thneedville’s motto only now there were acts of graffiti against them. In various colored spray paints the words ‘Let it grow’, 'The Lorax shall raise again’ and 'Down with O'Hare’ had been sprayed over numerous places. “He’s inciting trouble.” O'Hare said. “And I repeat if you guys ever see anyone marking the walls like this I want you bringin’ them in! In one piece or otherwise!”

“Yes sir.” saluted the men.

“Tryin’ to knock me off the top so he can take place again…” O'Hare sneered. “Oh, I’d like to see him try, the old idiot… he’s nothing but a blood thirsty mad man, driven insane by that smog out there. And who knows!” O'Hare turned his head to look at his men, and grinned. “He’s so old maybe Mother Nature will do the job for us and put an end to his madness.”

They certainly hoped so.

~*~

“C'mon kid. I got ya soup.” the old man was kneeling on the ground now in what some could consider a lounge room. The walls were covered in old propaganda posters for the Thneed, though they had suffered over the years. There were bullet holes that riddled the smiling, illustrated face of the young Once-ler as well as knife tears and out right scorch marks on a few. Course that was nothing compared to some lifted posters of O'Hare. They had suffered even worse; shot gun blasts, even some arrows. Not only were there ruined posters, but there were weapons too. Guns of various makes and sizes, armory, even a good old fashion bow and arrow sat up a shelf with a big collection of arrows.

He couldn’t leave the boy alone so Once-ler had carried his bed’s mattress down the flights of stairs and set it up besides the wooden table in the middle of the room. He was trying to make the kid comfortable but that was hard to do since he was shivering and shuddering from the illness he had, and going by how white he’d gone, the boy didn’t have much time left.

Wesley’s sunken eyes slowly open and he stares up at the old man standing there, now without his gloves, jacket, hat and goggles. He looked like any other old man, though his body language screamed of control and confidence, and the clothes he wore looked like they had seen much better days. The white long sleeved shirt had stitching across it to patch up numerous rips and tears, the grey vest was tattered but in one piece more or less and his long black trousers were dusty.

“I… not hungry…” Wesley said, turning his head away weakly.

“You have to eat.” Once-ler answered firmly, but still softly. “C'mon. Do this for me?”

The little boy obviously wasn’t hungry but Once-ler wanted him to have at least something warm in his stomach to help ease the pain he was feeling. He eventually talked the boy into it, holding his head up as he spoon fed him the soup which was simple broth. Nothing fancy; the kid’s stomach probably couldn’t handle even chicken soup at this point and he didn’t want him feeling sicker.

“Tell me 'bout yourself Wesley. What’d you like to do?” asked Once-ler as he wiped the little boy’s chin, since the soup had begun to dribble down.

“S-swimming…” he answered quietly.

“Hey swimming, that’s got to be fun right?” Once-ler asked, smiling as brightly as he could. “I never learned to swim, myself.”

“Wh… why…?”

“Where I came from, we didn’t have pools 'n water to swim in. And when I moved way out here I just never learned. Didn’t think it was necessary. Looks fun though. Is it?”

It took the boy longer to answer, he was obviously struggling to even keep his eyes open, but he eventually managed to nod his head once. Once-ler had to resist the urge to snarl at the world in general, or in O'Hare’s direction. This wasn’t the first sickly person Once-ler had come across but one so young, so innocent, it made him so mad yet so frightfully sad at the same time. Nobody this young should suffer like this. Nobody should and yet he had. What had made him sick like this? A virus? Disease? He wasn’t a doctor, so he couldn’t even begin to diagnose.

“…rest now.” Once-ler whispered as he settled the boy down against the bed, and fluffed up his old pillow as best as he could before covering Wesley’s shaking form with a blanket made of stitched together thneeds. The little boy whimpered and Once-ler heard him whisper something about his mother and father, before the old man got to his knees, then feet, wincing as he did.

As the child slept the old man worked. He lit a small candle and set it on his table and he began to check through the new ammunition that had been sent out to him in the last shipment. Every bullet had to be checked to make sure it was fully functioning, and wouldn’t misfire or blow up in his face. A few had, in the past, leaving nicks and scars across his face but thankfully no damage done to his eyes since he always wore his goggles when firing his shot gun. To risk damage to his eyes… oh, he would never. He only removed them when he really wanted to focus on a target, keeping his vision clear, unclouded by the yellow lenses.

In the corner of the room an old record player gently played some smooth jazz, filling the air with some kind of noise and hopefully giving the child something other than his pain to focus on. He desperately wanted to smoke a cigar but he dare not with the little boy sleeping besides him on the floor, so instead he drank. A glass half full of whiskey sat in front of the bullets, and the man slowly took small sips throughout his checking of the bullets.

It took him a few hours to do that, checking each one, and ended up with a few duds so, over all, a good check over since normally there would be more than forty to a group of two hundred. Once-ler moved the dead bullets to a bag and set it aside whilst the good ones were placed back in their box and returned with the other ammunition on their categorized shelves.

Once-ler sat back on his chair and stared ahead for a moment before sighing, and pulled a kit out from a drawer in the wooden table. After setting it down, he reached down and rolled up his right pant leg. Once he was past the black boot he wore whose laces and straps went up past his ankle, it revealed what was left of his leg. It was still there, only the muscle mass had all but shriveled away leaving what looked like a skeleton that had been covered with old, speckled skin. But he had not given up, at the loss of use of his legs. He had prevailed, he had adapted, and had created a 'support’ that ran from the base of his foot up to his knee joint and all the way up to his mid thigh.

Naturally they were made of metal and increased the power in his legs, enabling him to simply walk, as well as run for far distances without his legs aching and on top of that it allowed him to leap farther than any normal man could. It amused him, though, when guards would try to shoot his kneecaps out only to have the bullets deflect.

It was the illness, you see. Even if his body had adapted to living in the toxic environment he had helped create, it had also become diseased. Whatever it was, cancer, or something else, had eaten away at the strength and nerves in his legs. Without his expertise as an inventor, as a man who adapts, he may well have ended up sitting in his lurkim alone for years unable to move. But Once-ler was a stubborn man, a determined man, something he had held onto long since the innocence of his youth had dwindled in the face of the world and its harsh realities, and cruelties.

Then there was his lungs; diseased as much as his legs had once been. It probably didn’t help matters that he smoked cigars on a daily basis, but when you reached this age, with the kind of work he did on a daily basis he felt he was entitled to some kind of pleasure in his life and if that was smoking and drinking, than that’s what it was going to be. He was going to die some day, any day now probably going by how crazy things were getting, so he chose to get what he could out of life while he still could.

The old man began to tend to the metal casings over his legs, oiling up the joints, cleaning off the grime, as well as tending to his skin which tended to rub and get small sores where the metal rubbed. Thankfully, though, he felt nothing from the waist down (thankfully the 'plumbing’ still operated just fine thank you very much) otherwise he would be in constant pain with his legs.He tended to both legs in succession that night, stopping to sip his whiskey, or to simply listen to the music that brought on softer memories of his youth.

Dancing with Norma, before he had been consumed by greed and pride, swaying together to slow music in his cottage or out among the trees. How beautiful she had looked, then, her hair done up in curls that hung around her perfect, beautiful face. She used to be able to make him blush like a child by simply batting her eyelashes at him, once upon a time.

That was such a long, long time ago now… could he even dance any more? Or had he forgotten the art when he had begun focusing more on weapons, and guns, and planning to bring down O'Hare? He didn’t know. He couldn’t try to find out and certainly not now, for the small boy suddenly began to cough. But this cough didn’t sound right; it was the kind of cough every person made after breathing in the air outside. When they couldn’t breathe any more.

“No. NO!” Once-ler’s chair toppled to the floor as he himself fell to the floor besides the boy, wrapping him up in his arms, rocking him like his mother would have. “No, no. Wesley. Come on. Stay with me. You can do this. You’re young! You’re strong, you got a whole life ahead of you and believe me it’s going to be worth it soon! You’ll be back with your mom 'n dad and the town will be free and there won’t be any more of this ugliness. You, you have to wait and see it, you must…!”

Wesley was beyond the art of speaking, his skin was now a pasty white, the bags around his eyes so deeply embedded it was disgusting to look upon. His spit flew from his mouth as he coughed, stained with red droplets of blood, and they stained Once-ler’s white shirt and vest but the old man didn’t care. He caressed the back of the little boy’s head, his expression grim. Begging wasn’t going to do anything, it hadn’t helped before, it wasn’t helping now. He pressed the child against his chest and rocked him, back and forth, humming a disjointed song he could remember from his own youth.

Once-ler held onto the boy, rocking, humming, until the violent shaking of the child finally stopped. He heard that final, horrible sigh as the child lost his battle, and his body went limp and still in his arms. The old man held him close, though, refusing to let him go yet. Not fair, not right, how can this be law; sending a dying child out into a world that killed him even faster? He had a whole life waiting for him but no, because he’d gotten sick, because his parents couldn’t afford medicine, he’d been discarded like trash. Tears welled in the old man’s eyes and hated himself even more.

Why? That a man as horrible and disgusting as himself would live to be so old, and yet an innocent life like this had been snuffed out so early, hardly given a chance to shine. He couldn’t stop the tears, nor would he try to, as he bowed his head forward and pressed his cheek to the dead child’s now cold forehead. His sobs soon replaced the sound of the jazz music, and they echoed out around the slanted lurkim on the far edge of the cliff face.

~*~

“You’re going back out there, aren’t you?” Helen asked as she set down the breakfast she had made in front of Ted. It was some kind of slop again but different to the slop they had to eat for dinner.

The young boy sat there, arms folded on the table. He said nothing.

“I can see that you are. You’re thinkin’ about it.” she said, wondering how Ted suddenly had changed in the span of a few days time. He suddenly looked much older in her eyes, this look around his eyes that reminded her of her husband.

“You never told me about Dad.” Ted said quietly, slowly lifting his head to look up at her. “You just told me he died.”

“He did.”

“N-no, he was taken away. He was killed. Because he worked with the Once-ler.” Ted said quietly. “You never told me that part.”

Helen shut her eyes, and sunk down to her seat at the table. She removed her glasses and rubbed at her eyes tiredly, shoulders shaking slightly. “I know.”

“Why? I mean, why didn’t you tell me?” Ted asked.

“Because I didn’t want you thinking that you could get revenge for what happened.” Helen admitted, looking up at him finally, tears in her brown eyes. “I didn’t want my son, my baby, going out to fight a war that killed his father.”

“I don’t know if that’s your call to make any more.” he said bluntly. He had done a lot of thinking the night before and while this had begun as a trip to get Audrey a tree so she would notice him, suddenly it had become something so much bigger than anything Ted would have even dreamed of. There was a war happening, a war behind the scenes that nobody was told about to keep the projected image of 'peace’ and 'orderly conduct’ in place. A war that had taken his father away, yes, but so many other people too. Just how many, he couldn’t begin to comprehend.

“Just. Just be careful that’s all I ask.” Helen finally whispered. “Please.”

She was surprised to find his arms around her suddenly, but she was grateful. Helen held him back tightly, remembering so much in such a short amount of time. How small Ted had been when he’d been born; she was so afraid he was sick but he was stronger than the doctors thought. The little baby had fought to live, had survived his premature birth, and continued to grow like a weed. She could remember his first word 'Mama’ and his first steps, the first time he rode a bike, and everything else a mother remembered of their child. He was growing into a young man, one she was proud to call her son and she knew her husband would be proud of him as well. Now, more so than ever.

“Wait for tonight, at least. You gotta be crazy if you try to sneak out in board daylight.” she whispered.

“Got ya, Ma.”

And wait he did. The young boy waited for the cover of darkness to sneak out again; this time taking a route his Grammy had offered him to take. It meant taking the sewers but with his gasmask on, the young boy had managed better than he thought he would. He used his screwdriver to loosen the already loose casings on the final exit and climbed down from the pipe, landing in more filthy water but it wasn’t anything he couldn’t manage.

Getting onto his bike Ted began his long trek out across the wasteland, but his journey was not going to be an easy or simple one of course not. He was just rounding an old, broken looking machine that had axes sticking out of a long, ant-eater like device, when he ran into something or, in this case, somebody. Ted yelped as he fell back onto the ground but soon found a huge fist grabbing the front of his shirt and hauling him to his feet and Ted’s eyes widened when he saw who it was.

One of the guards. He had a round helmet on, huge round goggles and a gas mask that made him almost look like a living human fly. The man wasn’t alone, and the two of them were very big and very bulky. They didn’t even ask him any questions before one of the men had suddenly struck Ted in the face with his fist. Ted brought his hands up to shield himself, knowing he couldn’t even attempt to take them on, before he was thrown to the ground. When he landed, however, his mask came free and fell from his face. He tried to get up to grab his mask but a pressure was pushed down against his back, and he felt another blow to his head, causing him to cry out.

That’s when the Once-ler appeared. He screamed like a wild animal as he came barreling out of the darkness and the man with his foot on Ted’s back was startled when the old man tackled him like a football player, with a strength somebody wouldn’t expect from a man his age. The force sent the two men rolling, tumbling, whilst the second man automatically went for his weapon while Ted scrambled for some kind of cover.

The old man was to his feet instantly and he swung his foot at the man’s head, the strength of his metallic limbs causing the man’s neck to snap back dangerously close to breaking point but not entirely. Dazed, the guard was barely aware when the old man hauled him to his feet and used him as a living shield when his partner began to shoot at the old man. They had been foolish; they hadn’t anticipated an attack, nor gun fire. Their usual padding wasn’t here and the bullets lodged in the guard’s body, causing him to cry out in pain as the burning stings of the bullets pierced his flesh.

The second man gave up shooting at a distance and began to rush forward but didn’t get too far before a shotgun blast went clear through his shoulder. He screamed and fell to the ground, seconds later the Once-ler’s foot was upon the bullet wound, causing the pain to intensify even more as he pinned the large man tot he floor. Grabbing at his mask, his helmet, the old man ripped it off of the man’s face and tossed it away before pointing one of his pistols at the mans face as he pulled his own yellow goggles off of his face. They revealed cold blue eyes, hardened by years of loneliness, years of fighting, and now they blazed with raw rage.

“Is O'Hare that interested in one singular little boy?” he demanded, vision clear in the fog; he didn’t want to miss this shot. “Is that why he sent one out to die last night?”

“Follow… following orders…” gagged the man.

“That’s not a good enough reason.” Once-ler snarled. “I’m letting you live. Take your dead friend back with you and let this be a lesson to your boss. Touch my grandson again and I will destroy everything you hold dear. You got that?” he hissed this last part dangerously low, so malicious and dark it sounded one would swear a snake had been given the gift of speech.

The fallen man whimpered before Once-ler bent down and quickly retrieved the weapons from the man. He didn’t trust them as far as he could throw them. Once the man was weaponless Once-ler got off of him, and watched as he gathered up his fallen comrade and dragged him away. Frowning still, Once-ler turned to where he’d seen Ted and when he saw him his eyes widened in absolute horror.

Ted’s nose was bleeding, he had a blackened eye, and his mask sat in his hands.

“NO!” Once-ler thought, screamed it in his mind, before he rushed to the boy and knelt before him, grasping at his mask and pushed it over his mouth. He tried to appear calm, collected. “You kids. Getting into trouble…”

“Sorry,” Ted spluttered, wincing at the pain of the pressure of the mask against his sore face.

Once-ler felt dread growing in his stomach. How long had Ted been without his gas mask on? It only took a minute for the toxic haze to get into your lungs, and it would only take a matter of days for it to spread and infect your lungs, breaking them down. That guard he had unmasked was now a dead man walking, and he probably knew it too. He doubted Ted knew, though. Should he tell him? Warn him? He didn’t know.

“You missed me.” Once-ler chuckled, forcing his fears away.

“Huh?” Ted asked, dizzy from the strike to his head.

“You came back. Clearly you missed me. A little. Right?” Once-ler asked as he helped Ted to his feet, dusting off the front of his shirt as he did.

Ted gave a weak laugh.

“Well come on. Best get you to my place in one piece before anything else leaps out and tries to kill you.” Once-ler said as he bent down to retrieve the bike from where it had fallen. Once-ler got on it and had Ted ride on behind him as he kick started it, and drove across the landscape.

His heart was racing within his chest; already pained from having to bury the little boy out under a tree stump just that morning. How he had dug, the ground deep and cold but he had covered the little boy in a blanket, given him a decent burial, before placing the Earth back on top of him. He had wept throughout the entire procedure from digging to end, just how he did every single painful time he had to end up burying people who were cast out of the town.

He had done it so many times he almost lost count but he refused to allow his own grandson to end up under one of those tree stumps, sleeping forever.

He just simply wouldn’t allow it.

_To be continued_


	6. Empty Promises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Once-ler takes Ted back to his house to tend to the boy’s injuries, and continues the story about what happened to the trees.

Ted had never expected that he would be taken into the old man’s house, and to be perfectly honest with you he felt a little terrified. He had just witnessed this man take down two men using only one bullet, and on top of that the last time they met he had leaped him over The Wall as if it were nothing. He could shoot crows, in midflight, between the eyes. The man could take down men younger than him, stronger than him and if that wasn’t intimidating, than nothing else was.

The old man seemed to drive in zigzags across the field once they were close enough to his house and Ted looked up at him, feeling the blood clotting in his nose. “Why–”

“We might be being followed and it’s harder to shoot a target that keeps moving.”

And now Ted was even more terrified than before, and the old man seemed to pick up on that. “I doubt it though, that lug couldn’t get himself back there and alert anyone to us that quickly.” Once-ler finally reached his house and got off the bike. He left it leaning against the house as he walked Ted to his door, pushing it open. Naturally, inside was pitch black and Ted felt those nerves and apprehension creep back up his spine. 

“Come on then, gotta pop your nose back in place.” the old man said as he grasped Ted’s shoulder and pulled him inside after him, slamming the door. Ted stood, stock still, in the door way as he felt the presence of the elderly man walk around him, and then a candle was lit and the room was illuminated and continued to be so since Once-ler went around lighting various candles.

“Oh wow…” Ted whispered when he saw all of the posters, and weapons, that plastered the walls of the lounge. On the floor was a mattress, a pillow and some blankets. Did the old man sleep in here, and not upstairs?

“C'mere,” suddenly Ted was turned around; “Take a deep breath.”

“Uh?” he asked, confused.

“The air ‘round here isn’t the best. I’m worried enough as it is you might’ve breathed some outside when they knocked your mask off so I’m not going to run the risk of you getting sick. Hold your breath, I’m gonna fix your nose.” the old man explained, point blank, making Ted’s innards feel like jelly. There was something in the fog? Of course there was; that’s why his Grammy had insisted on him wearing a mask in the first place. What if, what if he was now…

“Focus.” Once-ler smacked Ted’s cheek, causing the bruise to sting. “Deep breath.”

Ted nodded and did as he was instructed. Seconds later his mask was pulled away, the old man’s fingers gripped his busted nose and there was a sharp crack noise filling the air and pain shot through Ted’s nose and he yelped before the mask was pushed back onto his face. He grabbed at his face either way, shaking his head. “Ow ow ow ow ow…!!”

“Well much as I’m sure all the ladies would love you with a crooked nose, I think you’re better suited with a fixed one.” Once-ler said as he wiped his hand against his scarf. “Now let’s get your face cleaned up too.”

And so Ted was soon sat at the small wooden desk in the middle of the room with an old, maybe-terrorist, wiping his face clean with a washcloth. He tutted. “They got you good didn’t they?”

“Yeah…” he mumbled, wincing, since the man wasn’t that gentle at all.

“You don’t have to wonder why though, do you?” he asked.

“I was outside The Wall. And now–now they know I know you..!” the young boy lamented, voicing his fears. “They’ll come after Ma, 'n Grammy, and–”

“Shht.” Once-ler held up a finger for silence and like a trained dog Ted obeyed; he couldn’t help it, there was just something about the man that told you if he gave you direct orders, you listen. “They won’t.”

“They w… why? How can you be so sure? What if right now they’re back there, grabbing my Ma and–”

“I’m sure because O'Hare knows me and I sent him back a message. He and I have been stuck in this stupid game for decades now and he knows I don’t fool around so when I say not to touch someone he won’t.” though, deep down, he feared if this was finally the last straw. If Helen was hurt in any way, or worse, Norma, he may not be held accountable for the body count he’d rack up when going after the short, horrible man.

Ted sighed; there wasn’t much he could do any way. He was a kid, barely a teenager. How could he protect his family from all the way out here, anyway? He couldn’t get there fast enough, not really. Neither could this old man. He suddenly looked up at him. “Wait but… if there’s bad stuff in the air around here why don’t–”

“I’m sure you want to hear the rest of the story.” the Once-ler said, ignoring the question. “About what happened?”

“Well yeah but doesn’t that make you si–”

“Stop interrupting." 

"Sorry.”

“Right, now where was I. Oh yes, that night…”

The cottage had sat there quite comfortably in the valley, and Once-ler had been pretty proud of the fact he had found such an ideal location in which to live. The stream was near by, meaning fresh water and a place to do his washing, there was plenty of fruit around in the trees for him to pick and on top of that there were fish here! He loved fish, and after that… strange… thing had left he had gone fishing.

By now, well past sun down, there were some fish in his ice box as well as that large bird he’d shot. Oh yes, Once-ler was going to be eating pretty this week, for sure. But tonight wasn’t the time for cooking and feasting, no, it was time for work. He had harvested all of the tufts from the Truffula tree and had spun them into a workable material and was now knitting in his bed.

Most would consider knitting a very unmanly thing, but not Once-ler. He did plenty of things considered manly; he hunted, he fished, he chopped down trees, why was it wrong for him to partake in an activity most saw as feminine? If anything it helped secure his masculinity even more; that he was that comfortable in it, that he could do feminine things without fear of insult. Back home, though, it was a different story. His brothers had teased him, as had his mother and rest of the family, when they found out his fascination with knitting.

Ooh, but they would be laughing now. He was putting the finishing touches on his first Thneed, a long, stretchable pink thing that looked like a scarf but was shaped differently. Finally, after working all afternoon and evening, his first Thneed was finally, officially, finished. Once-ler bit the thread that he had been working with and put the needle into the pincushion by his bed and got to his feet.

“Now that’s a Thneed.” he announced to the world, feeling a great swell of pride within his chest. He had left home, left all he knew and (sort of) loved behind and had set out into the great wide world to start his life. For months he had travelled in his cart searching the right material and now he had finally found it in paradise. Where there was food a plenty by way of fruit, and meat, fresh running water… the only draw back was that… Lorax thing. That threat about a curse made him snort in bemusement. What would he do, shed on him?

He yawned, stretched, and got into his single, comfortable bed. Once-ler blew out the candle by his bedside, snuggled down, and was soon fast asleep. To this day he couldn’t remember what he was dreaming about, because the memory was shot out of his brain like a bullet from a gun when he was suddenly drenched in cold water. He screamed in shock, and he felt a fish slap its tail against his face in alarm. Sitting up in his bed, clothes, hair, and skin wet and made worse by the rushing cold night air around him, Once-ler had no idea where he was.

Then he realized he was still in his bed, in the river. He looked around, wide eyed in shock, before turning and looked in the direction in which his bed was moving and screamed when it began bumping violently against the jagged rocks. Scrambling, Once-ler grabbed at his bed head to keep himself firmly attached to his bed since he knew if he was the one in the water he’d have multiple broken limbs already. Just what had happened? Who’d done this? 

“HEY!!” a voice startled him and he lifted his head and saw the least likely thing he’d ever seen. A woman. Running along the side of the river. “You got trouble and it’s coming up fast!” she called.

“You mean besides being in the river?!” he called back.

“WATERFALL!” she shouted. “Get out of the water, get out of the water swim to shore!!”

Waterfall. Well that was just great, and yes, the bed was picking up speed and Once-ler, despite not knowing how to swim at all, leaped from the bed and landed in the water. The current was strong, and it knocked him over again and again within the water. He spluttered and gasped as he broke the surface, his long arms flailing as he tried to balance himself in the water but it was seemingly impossible. Back home there were no streams, no rivers, no lakes in which to learn how to swim in.

His life flashed before his eyes as he struggled still, and slipped beneath the surface of the water. He recalled his father leaving, his brothers being born, getting his mule Melvin, trying all he could to make his mother proud as well as his aunt and uncle but then it all fell to darkness and the Once-ler knew nothing more.

The sunlight stung his eyes as he lay there on the grass besides the river. His whole body felt sore and achy, his head pounded, his lungs stung and he’s got various lacerations to his skin but… he’s alive. The young man lay there for a moment longer before his pale blue eyes slowly began to open and first thing he saw was the upside down face of the Lorax staring down at him. He yelled, hysterically so, and flailed as he pulled away from the beast. Again, he was without a weapon to defend himself from this creature that could probably eat his head if it so wanted.

Around him, trapping him in a circle, were animals. He hadn’t seen them so up close before, the bar-ba-loots, the swans, and even the fish themselves. He placed a hand to his chest, panting wildly. “W-what’s. What’s going, what’re you…. I was. I was being pu-pulled into… into the light and… s-something…” he looked back at the Lorax, eyes still wide. “Someone br-brought me back b-but how did… ho did my bed get… the river…?" 

"I put your bed in the river.” the Lorax’s voice spoke within his head. “You did not heed my warning and so I simply wanted to float you away but thanks to your clumsiness whilst sleeping one of your feet dipped in the water and took you down the route leading to the waterfalls.”

Once-ler stared at him, before angrily getting to his feet, wobbly. “Y-you?!” he spluttered. “So why d-did… wait you. You tried to see me off then you save me but why?”

“The Lorax is incapable of killing anyone.” he explained simply. “While death does happen, and has to happen, to allow the world to grow and shift and change I can not willingly cause the death of somebody. I do regret my actions but at the same time I do not,” he stalked towards the Once-ler, flowers erupting beneath his feet as he walked. “Everybody within this valley needs the trees. And your ambition is to cut every single one down, and that foolish thneed you invented? Nobody should need it, much less want it.”

“Yeah well it’s a good thing you’re not the target market!” snapped the Once-ler. “I’m not leaving, I’ve searched too long for a place like this and I’m not, not going to have a talking foot rest tell me what to do!”

The Lorax gave him a look and it felt as though Once-ler just realized the other animals were there. He looked at the brown bar-ba-loots, eyes curious and concerned while the swomee swans cautiously watched him from the near by tree branches, and those who had gathered in the circle. Even the fish were watching him with a kind of intelligence he’d never seen in animal’s eyes before. He frowned, before looking down at his feet.

“…I. Could compromise.” he muttered.

“Such as?” the Lorax asked as the sun’s rays began to dry Once-ler’s clothes.

“I guess I could just. Harvest. Instead of cut.” it would take longer, far longer, than just cutting down the trees. But if it meant not being guilt tripped or being shoved into rivers in his bed, then he would gladly do it.

“I hold you to your word, human.” said the Lorax, green eyes watching him cautiously. “I shall be keeping an eye on you.”

“Goodie.” Once-ler said, dryly.

“So you promised not to cut down any more trees.” Ted said as he sat at the desk still, holding a mug of broth in his hands.

“I did. Obviously going by the state of things I didn’t keep my word, though.” Once-ler said from his place across the room, staring out of the window forlornly. “Empty promises made by a stupid boy who thought he could own and rule the world.”

“But wait, who was the girl to wake you? When you were in the river, the one screaming?” he asked.

“I honestly have no clue. Maybe she was a passer by from town. Or the Lorax taking on a human form. No matter who she was, she’s been long since gone.” the old man sighed, before rubbing at his neck. “So I headed to town the next day full; of hopes and dreams that were… unmercifully shot down.”

Ted knew this; his grandmother had been telling him about how the townsfolk had reacted to the Once-ler showing up in town with his music and his Thneed, trying to sell it. He wasn’t certain he should tell him this, though. So he listened, quietly.

“It didn’t sell. At least, at first. The first few days passed and the people weren’t interested but I kept at it; I kept singing, I kept showing what it could do, how wondrous it could be and you know what?”

“What?” Ted asked.

“I threw it away and throwing it away turned out to be the greatest move in my life.”

The young man stalked away from the crowd of naysayers and tomato throwers, frustration and unshed tears on his face. His family was right. They had been right the entire time; the Thneed was a stupid idea thought up by a stupid boy who didn’t know any better. He felt so ashamed, so low, so disgusting he had ripped his Thneed from his neck and hurled it away from himself. He had stalked home and locked himself away in his house and hadn’t left for weeks. 

Naturally, Once-ler did not mention a certain aspect of the story at all. Why? It had nothing to do with the trees at all and he doubted the young man wanted to hear about how he had met his grandmother, this lovely woman with the curly brown hair and glasses, who wore a beautiful yellow dress. She had joked and laughed at him at first like everyone else, but every day she would show up to tease and joke at him until one day she just showed up at his house.

How she said she thought he was a hottie, and that she wanted to take him places, go out with him, show him off. He thought it was an elaborate joke at first and had refused, telling her to leave; but she kept coming back. She, like him, was stubborn to a fault. Norma just wasn’t one to throw in the towel, like he had, and when he’d finally agreed oh how she had cheered and told him he wouldn’t regret it. And oh, he hadn’t. She ended up being a bright, shining star in his life. She brought him happiness, her company, soft, warm touches for the first time in his life and it was ridiculous to admit how fast his heart had fallen for her.

They were married within only three months of knowing one another, and had remained so ever since. Did Ted know this? He didn’t know; the young boy gave no sign of knowing he was talking to his estranged grandfather and Once-ler felt like this was probably the right course of action. Who would want to be related to him? His own daughter, born before his exile, out right refused to acknowledge him so her son should follow suite. It was for the best. All for the best.

“So what happened?” Ted asked, tilting his head, broth soup now gone. “It suddenly got popular?”

“More or less. Turns out my Thneed had been collected and people began to see the usefulness of it.” Once-ler said, turning from the mirror, and his memories, to look at the young boy. “I hadn’t seen the Lorax in months but suddenly people were showing up at my cottage demanding Thneeds. It was shocked. I didn’t expect it to happen, ever, yet here they were waving hundred dollar bills in my face demanding, wanting my goods so of course I got right to work. But I couldn’t do it alone, and that’s what led me to do, quite possibly, the worst thing ever.”

“Did you chop down the trees?” Ted asked.

“No. I called my Mother.”

He should have known better, back then. He should have known better than to call the woman who had put him down since day one, the woman who told him only to call when he was rich and successful. He hadn’t even called her when he was getting married, since he didn’t want her showing up expecting to find him rich to only see he could afford a wedding in a court house with Norma, wearing a simple white dress. To him she had looked stunning; that’s what mattered, but to his mother it wouldn’t have been enough. She would have demanded to know why he wasted his time on frivolous things like love when money was to be made.

But he was still a little boy, deep down, who had sought his mother’s approval. He wanted her to see him finally making money, working hard at making his Thneeds with Norma, selling them as soon as they were made.

Little did he know his mother’s influence on him would bring about the end of paradise as he knew it.

“I need to get you home again.” Once-ler suddenly said, “It’s time.”

“What?” Ted sat up, looking surprised, and annoyed. “Again? Look can’t you just tell me what happened, the abridged version?”

Once-ler turned and looked at Ted with such intensity Ted was surprised he didn’t turn to ash itself under such a look. The old man approached Ted and loomed over him for a moment before bending down, so their faces were almost touching. “My life is not an abridged story to be skipped over.” he whispered, harshly. “These are the actions that brought upon the death of hundreds of people, the decimation of a forest, pollution, extinction, and the town you know and 'love’. You need to know all the details to understand it all, Ted, and I’m not going to give you cliff notes. Do you understand me?”

“I’m sorry, I-I’m sorry…”

“You’re young. You want things quicker, easier. I forgive you. Just don’t tell me to cut my life down like that again. Now. Let’s get you home.” Once-ler said as he stood back up to his full height. Little did Ted know that the old man had been observing him, waiting to see him start to loose the colour in his face and begin to cough. It was always the first sign of the fog affecting you and yet… Ted hadn’t been coughing. His appetite was healthy. He didn’t loose any colour in his face despite his bruising. He was fine. Why? That had never happened before in all his years of seeing people being affected by the polluted air.

He had to find out more about this, but first, he had to get Ted home safe and that’s exactly what he intended to do. Just as before, he had Ted hanging onto him as he rode across the lifeless fields, driving past the tree stumps. Ted watched them as they rode, turning his head to peer up at the back head of the Once-ler.

“You’ve buried a lot of people haven’t you?” he asked.

“Too many.” was the curt reply.

“It’s just so wrong,” Ted whispered as he watched some more tree stumps blur past as Once-ler drove. “That… so many people die because… because why?”

“I won’t begin to try and navigate the twisted maze that’s O'Hare’s mind and neither should you.” the old man said as he began to slow down the bike since they were approaching The Wall. “He just needs his control and it needs to be perfect in his eyes so he’s making it perfect no matter the cost. Even if it includes human life. Now!” he got off the bike, holding onto the handle bar in one hand. “Who’s for a little jumping?”

“Oh man no… not agaaaaaaaaaiiiiiiiiiiiiin!!!” naturally the old man had grabbed him and even before Ted could end his sentence they were flying through the air. “You love taking me out of my comfort zone don’t you?” Ted asked weakly.

“Hush now.” Once-ler snapped and then they were within the city walls. The old man lifted Ted and set him on his bike and pushed at him, waving and stood guard there until Ted was gone but even then he ghosted after him, and it’s a good thing he did because Ted wasn’t even aware of the three men who were watching his house. The young boy, as he opened the door to get inside, wasn’t even aware of the three lives snuffed out thanks to an old man who had adjusted to killing as quickly as people took to breathing. The old man, having once cleaned his hands, turned his head and looked up, up, up at the sky above the city.

A big, white, smog spewing blimp hovered there.

Once-ler had a house call to make.

_To be continued_


	7. The First Shot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Once-ler pays O'Hare a visit and leaves a far more permanent message to keep hands off the Wiggins family. This only steps things up even worse than before.

The large blimp was a safe haven; a place nobody could touch. It hovered above the dark city of Thneedville, overseeing every little thing. Despite its size, it could move incredibly quickly. Most saw it as an advertisement means, what with the advert for O'Hare Air on the side, but more knew it was used as a surveillance centre. Even less, though, knew it was where O'Hare would sleep every so often.

Of course being such a rich man he could own any street, or house, he may want but being the territorial, misguided man he was, he adored the idea of sleeping above the entire city that he held down with the weight of his thumb. It made him feel awful important.

However, his reasons of sleeping here tonight, had nothing to do with that. It had more to do with the fact that those terrorists were causing trouble. His Air Factory had been raided, and ten crates of bottled air had been stolen. While a few of them had been captured, and taken in for questioning that day, many weren’t breaking. He knew, deep down, that they were up to something. Planning something big; something humongous so he had to tighten the net. 

He was also afraid, too. That Once-ler, that crazy old man who sometimes felt like a cockroach to him, was still out there and scurrying away any time the lights were turned on. Still actively joining people together to bring him down. The man killed his men and wounded the rest, and when word had gotten back to him hours ago about young Ted Wiggins being saved by the man himself… and sending back a message to not touch the Wiggins family… well. Red flags shot up.

What was the Once-ler’s connection to these people and how hadn’t he seen it before? He was supposed to have eyes and ears everywhere and yet this little family of nobodies had slipped past his radar and into the Once-ler’s pocket. So, naturally, he had sent out men to watch the house tonight. The boy would obviously come back today, or at some point, and when he did… well. O'Hare would be the first to find out.

He had retired to his bedroom; small in this blimp but big enough for a man of his stature, and was soon fast asleep, unknowing that the man he had been hunting for over thirty years was going to appear right here in his room with him.

The blimp continued its lazy travel across the thick, dark city skies, spewing out black smoke as it went. It approached the tallest building, O'Hare Corps (naturally) for a fly by but how was it to know there was somebody standing on the corner of the bilding?

Illuminated by the brightness of the building, scarf flying in the fast paced wind, and coat tails flapping, Once-ler stood there. He watched with held breath as the blimp approached, before beginning to slowly careen away so not to hit the building. He adjusted his goggles once more before pulling the sleeve on his right hand back and aimed it at the blimp. Seconds later a black grappling hook, small but insanely strong, shot out of a gauntlet glove he had put on tonight especially over his glove and beneath his jacket’s sleeves. It took a few seconds for it to attach itself to the blimp and just as long for the Once-ler to wrap his hand around it to ensure he wouldn’t slip, nor would the device from his wrist, and grabbed the string.

Seconds later there was a six foot four elderly man in a jacket and scarf dangling from the blimp as it continued along. The old man grunted at the strain to his arm, before he pressed a button on the device around his wrist and the thin, incredibly strong cord began to reel in on itself taking him closer to the blimp.

Soon as he could Once-ler kicked a door in and slipped in shutting it behind him with a click. He wasn’t at all surprised when a big, lumbering ape of a man suddenly came rushing at him. Once-ler side stepped him expertly and the man crashed into the wall before he spun around like an enraged animal. He came back at the Once-ler, silent (O'Hare must be asleep) but never got to him. The old man stepped back on his heel and a blade, five inches long, erupted from the base of his foot. He kicked with all his might and the blade sunk itself into the lumbering goon’s stomach and at the same second punched him in the face, twice, and then the throat as the man fell to the floor.

The guard was still alive, just suffering massive bleeding, when he walked away from him after cleaning the bloodied blade on the man’s sleeve. He’d barely rounded the corner when he was set upon by two men but they fell just like the others had; the bigger they were, the harder they fell and boy did they fall.

The small man sleeping in the bed smelt the gun powder in the air and before he truly knew what was happening he felt the warm steel press itself against his left temple. O’Hare’s eyes widened instantly and he brought his hands up, breathing quickly. The small man dared to turn his head only just, and saw the soft glow of a cigar (as well as the stench) and the flash of goggles from the darkness that reflected the glow of the cigar.

How had the old man gotten into his bedroom? Better yet how had he gotten onto his blimp? What had happened to Marty and McGurk? All of them bypassed by an old man who looked like he could be broken in half over someone’s knee.

“Don’t worry. They’re alive. Just… indisposed.” the old man’s voice whispered in the darkness. “It’s just you and me, shorty.”

“You’re a mad mad you know that grandpa?” O'Hare hissed through his teeth, trying to hide his fear and failing since already there was the smell of urine in the air.

“I know.” Once-ler replied as he pushed the barrel of the gun closer to the short man’s temple. “I’m also the mad man with a gun right next to your brain. Watch how you treat your elders.”

“What is it that you want?” he asked, certainly not with a shake to his voice because Aloysius O’Hare was not afraid of anything. Especially not tall, crazed, insane old men who held guns to peoples heads as they slept. 

"I hear you"re chasing dots. Lining up things. I hear you have plans for the Wiggins.” whispered Once-ler. “I’m afraid I can’t let that happen, you know I can’t.”

“Oh, soft spot eh?” O’Hare grinned wickedly in the darkness. “Have I finally found a way to get to you, old man? Should I take the boy in for questioning? Or maybe his mother? Oh, oh. No. No. I know… it"s the Grammy, isn’t it? She’s not just any regular woman, is she?” he dared to ask.

“You’re pushing boundaries, O'Hare.” snarled the old man and O'Hare felt the gun press even closer to his head, surely it would leave a mark against his skin. “You’ve pushed enough around this town, but if you keep going…”

“Please!” the shorter man laughed, “Good guys have their rules. Bad guys don’t.”

Suddenly the gun is gone from his temple and O'Hare feels it press against one of his hands and pins it down against the bed harshly. O'Hare’s eyes widen in shock as the Once-ler’s foot is suddenly on his chest, pushing O’Hare down into the bed and he sees the glow of the old man’s cigar reflect in his goggles even more vibrantly now. The smell of the smoke is horrible and thick, and no doubt clogging up the old man’s lungs.

“Whoever said I was one of the good guys?”

The sound of the blast echoed through the bedroom, and O'Hare’s screaming filled the air afterwards as blood began to gush from his hand which was now more or less blown to nothing.

“MY HAND! MY HAND YOU SICK FUCK YOU SHOT MY HAND!” O'Hare screamed as he rolled onto his side, clutching at the stub that used to be a fully functioning right hand to his chest.

“Oh grow up.” Once-ler said as he plucked his cigar from his mouth and spat on the floor. He looked down at himself and saw the blood splatter on his pant legs and end of his scarf. “A man can survive a hand being blown off. Feel lucky it wasn’t your head.”

“YOU, YOU…!!” spluttered O’Hare as he began to feel dizzy but even he went silent when the gun was suddenly aimed straight at his face.

“That’s what you get for threatening Norma Wiggins. Do it again, even go near her and her family again, and I’ll be back. Next time I won’t take just your hand either.” Once-ler’s threat rang in O’Hare’s mind as the old man backed away from the bed, towards the large round window of the bedroom. O'Hare winced as the old man blew a hole through it, destroying the thickness that was supposed to prevent that from happening, and kicking more glass away so he could fit through the shattered window.

“Your time on the throne here is almost over.” Once-ler said as he moved closer to the window as the harsh wind whipped around him, making his scarf dance off of his shoulders and his coat tail to flap violently. He gritted his cigar tightly in his teeth as he looked down, down, down at the city below him before unhooking the grapple that had gotten him up here and slammed it into the hard surface of the wall just beyond the shattered glass.

“I… I’ll… kill you…” O’Hare snarled from his place on the bed, pressing his face down into the pillow for a moment as the blood still flowed, staining his expensive sheets. He was becoming dizzy and light headed. “I’LL KILL YOU!”

“Then we’ll go to Hell together.” Once-ler said back coldly before leaping out of the window, and vanished into the darkness, leaving nothing but the scent of cigars and blood in his wake.

The wind rushed around him as the chord unravelled, and he held tightly onto his black top hat as he continued to fall before he used his weight and swung, so he was now arching through the air like Tarzan. He aims for a building, and the second he’s close enough he releases the connection to the chord and goes flying without anything to catch him. 

“This is gonna hurt.” he mutters as he hits the roof of a building and he tumbles, and rolls, grunting and groaning as he does, before coming to a sudden stop when he hits the balcony of the building. It knocks the wind out of him and he slumps there for a moment, his old body reminding himself just how old he is and that even if his physical pain has been numbed through the years of living in a toxic environment, he could still feel pain.

He struggled to get up but collapsed under his own weight again, and his hat fell from his head as he lay there, blood beginning to trickle down his forehead from a laceration above his eye. “Really messed it up now.” he whispered. “Why’d I go and do that? Should have just shot his face in…” he gritted his teeth and pushed his hands down against the ground and sat up, body screaming in agony in defiance of him but his will was stronger than his body. 

“Oh great…” he whispered as he felt his right foot not responding. He must have done damage to the gears. That’ll have to be checked on tonight, then. He grumbled as he got up onto his feet, and limped to the stairs of the twirling, spiral house and began his slow descent. No doubt with his assault on O'Hare the security around here is going to get tighter, so he needs to alert those in the resistance that things are coming to a head. It wasn’t long now, soon, very soon, O'Hare would fall.

~*~

“So what his is the best you can do?” O'Hare grumbled as he stared at what was left of his right hand. Not much could be saved at all, and reconstruction was out of the window entirely. Once-ler had showed no mercy at all. It was bandaged, and already O'Hare missed his hand like crazy but it would be avenged, of course it would.

“The wound needs time to heal before we begin to even think about prosthetics, sir.” said the doctor.

“See that you get me something. Something to be used as a weapon. I don’t want to be left unguarded again.” he grumbled.

“Of course not, sir.” the doctor insisted.

“It’s getting ridiculous. Raids every other night, guards being assaulted. These people need to be reminded that they’re mine. And I’ve got an idea.” the small man smiled, the kind of smile nobody ever wanted to see, since even the doctor wanted to remove himself from the room as fast as possibe.

“An idea, sir?” he asked

“Hmmm. An idea.” O'Hare hopped off the operation table he’d been sitting on and walked away to the door, clenching his only good hand as he did. “It won’t be pretty but, that’s more or less the idea isn’t it? To remind them. Hm.” he huffed to himself before walking from the room entirely, the doors sliding shut behind him.

“I need to find a new career.” the doctor muttered as he began to clean up after the operation, wondering just what this man may have in store. While he may have stabalized the city after the corruption of the thneeds and the destruction of the city, the way he treated it now was worse than before. All the payments you had to make, how insanely high prices were, the curfews, the guards, the rules… it was insane. The doctor would never say it but he was glad there was a resistance. Their actions lately were getting bolder, and bolder and now the man in charge had shot O'Hare’s hand off in a sign of defiance.

If they can take his hand, what else could they take from him? Everything? The power over the city?

He prayed so. He was sick of hearing about children suffering illness and disease, the elerly as well, and being unable to help them because they could not pay the astronomical fees. How many had been sent beyond the wall? It was infuriating to think about.

No, change was coming.

It was inevitable.

~*~

“Oh my God Ted what happened to you!?” Helen all but shrieked wen she saw Ted the next morning coming downstairs with bruises to his face. She abandoned her breakfast at the table and Norma, also sitting there, stared with wide eyes at her grandson.

“Ma, I’m fine, I–”

“Look at your face, your eye what happened, you tell me!” she grabbed Ted’s arms, looking down at him with such an intense look of fear, but as well as anger, he’d ever seen on her face before.

“Wh… When I went to see him again, they. Some guys were waiting for me.” he admitted weakly, knowing better than to try and hide this from her, or his grandmother.

“Oh my God no, that is it. I can’t have you going out there again.” Helen said, “Now they know you’re goin’ out there how do we know they ain’t watchin’ the house? Is it even safe for us to be talkin’ about this–”

The door to the house swung open and Audrey came rushing in, tears in her eyes. Ted gulped upon seeing her seeing him like this, and paled when the red head looked at him.

“Audrey, what’re-” Helen started,

“What happened to Ted?” she asked, voice shaking.

“O'Hare’s goons. Nothin’ big.” Ted said dismissively as he could, trying to wriggle out of his mother’s embrace.

“What’s wrong?” Norma asked immediately, getting down from her seat.

“He-he’s gotten to my parents they’re gone a-and they painted over my room all my work’s gone and my parents they–they were home when I left to go sho-shopping for some food why didn’t they grab me too are they trying to get to me I don’t–” Audrey began to cry before Norma pulled her into her arms, rubbing the girl’s back.

“Shhh, shhhh. I know you’re scared. I know…” Norma whispered.

“I was so afraid you’d all be gone too and–” Audrey tried to say but could say no more save for the tears running down her face for a moment before she shook her head and pressed her face down against Norma’s shoulder.

“See? You see what happens when you get involved with a madman like this?” Helen demanded.

“He’s not a madman!” Ted snapped back, “He’s one of the bravest men I’ve ever met!”

“He’s a psychopathic lunatic with a death wish and I won’t have my son–” Helen started.

“Stop this!” Norma snapped loudly, sharply, causing them both to fall silent. “I haven’t been working forty years with my husband to have this family fall to ruins because of this!” she said, setting Audrey down in a chair and gave her some tissues before walking over to her family. “I’ve seen people ejected, the sick, the weak, the poor; even children, Helen. Your own husband was taken, you can’t be afraid of this forever, not of this man!”

“Husband?” Ted whispered to himself.

“Just because you’re ready to give up your life to bring this man down doesn’t mean the rest of us can! Ted’s just a boy, you can’t–”

It was during the argument which was getting louder and louder with every passing syllable that Ted made a break for the door. He grabbed his helmet before vanishing outside and a second later the sound of his uniscooter filled the air and Helen’s eyes widened at the realization of what just happened. She ran to the door and threw it open just in time to see Ted driving off.

“TED NO! NO!” she screamed, fearing everything. If O'Hare knew of them, then he’d be watching somehow. Ted could be taken, she might never see him again and never know what would become of him. Her father, the man who lived in the middle of no where and yet risked everything every day for everyone had infected Ted’s mind as well as her mother. She loathed him, she hated him, and it was now she wished with all her might that he was already dead.

_To be continued_


	8. Innocence Lost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ted heads out to see the Once-ler in the middle of the day to get answers to questions he feels is truly important but comes up against the worst thing he could imagine.

Tears rolled down Ted’s cheeks as he raced down the street on his scooter, uncaring that he’d forgotten his helmet, his goggles, or his mask. His mind was a hurricane of images and thoughts, memories and questions, it was like riding through a storm. Audrey’s parents were missing, why were they missing, and her home had been invaded too, her most private sanctuary painted white to hide the colours of the trees.

His grandmother had mentioned a husband and yet he never had heard her speak of him before. When he was younger he had asked her what happened to her husband, where was grandpa, and she’d told him he had died. Was that a lie? Or was it a half lie, that the man he had been had died and been replaced? He saw the Once-ler, this old man, coming to his rescue and defending him so violently he would never believed it if he hadn’t witnessed it. An old man like him, using his enemy’s strength against him before shooting the other with such precision.

His mother hated his grandfater, and she hated the Once-ler; that much was obvious. Were they one in the same? Was he related to the man who had brought about the worst change in this land’s history? Yet now he was fighting to bring about the second. Ted had so many questions, too many, and he just wanted them answered and the boy didn’t care any more if it was the middle of the day, or that people might see him.

He had to see the old man himself, now. Without help from anyone. He needed answers.

Ted soon got off of his scooter, since he was nearing one of the gates that operated during the day. He was in area three, after all; fairly middle class compared to those beyond his section but not nearly as well off as those further in.

At nights, the gates weren’t operating so the guards cold move in and out between them easily without having to worry in regards to security. After all, they were the guards after all. But this meant moving around, or to this extent, moving out towards The Wall at this time of day was a gamble but a gamble that Ted was going to take. 

He bent back the handle bars, making way for easy carry access, before sneaking on down a side ally way. This was one of the ways the old man had mentioned once, but Ted had never taken. He looked up at the walls and saw the posters for O'Hare, eyes spray painted out by green spray paint, before coming to a stop by a trash can.

A black cat leaped out and hissed at the boy before running off, and Ted shifted the can, revealing a pot hole cover. Normally lifting one would be impossible for a boy of Ted’s age, but he’d been told there was a way around it, especially this one. He bent down and pressed his fingers to the rounded letters on the metal, and abruptly the cover slid into the cement itself, though it made an awful racket when it did.

“Yikes!” Ted lifted his scooter and leaped down into the man hole, and was plunged into darkness.

The smell was horrendous and Ted gagged, choking back the bile wanting to erupt out of his mouth. He sputtered, and pulled the neck of his shirt up over his mouth and squeezed his eyes shut, and shakily turned the light on of his scooter. The darkness was illuminated and he heard the squeaks of rats, and splashing water, as he looked around.

The walls were smooth brick, and looked fairly old. He squinted at the bricks, and brought himself closer to one of the walls when he saw a carving on the wall. Shining the light of his scooter up against it he saw the words ‘Freedom’ accompanied by an arrow.

He had no other choice but to follow it, and keeping the light of his scooter on he continued to find arrows and 'Freedom’ scrawled into the walls. Now and then he found bullet holes, and aged stains that may have once been blood. It was horrific, with what little light he had to work with, and how close everything felt in here. And the splashing, it kept happening so he kept fearing he was being chased by somebody but he had to remind himself it was probably rats… or sewer alligators like those silly stories his school friends would make up.

“Don’t be stupid Ted…” he muttered under his thing t-shirt, “Aligators aren’t in Thneedville…”

He still hurried his pace.

Finally he came to a dead end, but not only that, but a ladder. It was slimy and disgusting looking, but there was the arrow and the word 'freedome’ again scrawled on the dead ends wall, pointing upwards. Ted looked up, and up, since the ladder appeared to go on forever. He looked down at his scooter, knowing he couldn’t carry it all the way up there. If only he’d brought rope, or something. But this wasn’t a planned mission, was it? He left his scooter at the bottom of the ladder and began to climb the old, rusting, slimy ladder.

It felt awful beneath his bare hands. He could feel flakes coming off and sticking to his fingers, and it made him want to gag again as bad as the smell of this place was but he wouldn’t stop to complain over something so childish at a time like this.

He continued to climb until he finally reached the top. Reaching up with a hand he pressed against the metal cover and pushed with all of the might he had in his teenage body. It took a good while, longer than he would ever admit, but finally the cover groaned and slowly was pushed out of the way.

Ted peeked out quickly, and squeaked when he saw just how close The Wall was. It was practically on top of him, but the opening did end beyond The Wall, thankfully. He scrambled out of the sewer and collapsed against the dirty ground, keeping his t-shirt over his mouth. The smell of the sewer still clung to him, making him feel sick. After taking a few deep, hopefully calming, breaths he finally got to his feet, and pressed himself against The Wall. There were always guards lining along The Wall during the day, wasn’t there? He’d never been at it during the day like this so he really had no idea.

And was it his imagination, or was there more sunlight pushing through the smog covered skies than usual today? He’d never seen it looking so bright… it was beautiful but at the same time it made things all the more dangerous. If he was spotted, he’d be shot on sight. 

“It’s harder to shoot a target that keeps moving.”

The old man’s voice whispered in the back of Ted’s mind, and even if a part of him just wanted to flat out run for the cover of the small bridge not too far from where he stood, he knew the old man had a point. If they did see him, he had better chance to survive if he kept making crazed motions, not running in a straight line. So that’s what he did; he took a deep breath, apologized to his mother, and ran.

He lost track of just how long he kept running across the wasteland, holding his t-shirt over his mouth as he did. Ted ran in zigzags, this way, that way, sometimes even doubling back but he was always smart to use cover to stop for a quick breather. His heart was racing within his chest, and his ears burned from over use. If someone was following him, he should hear them shouldn’t he? He was young, agile, quick on his feet. A big bulky guy would make noise. Right? He didn’t know, he was terrified all over again, and the fear gripped at him to the point that he wanted to just stand here, huddled in the day light, and wait it out.

But wait out for what? For someone to find him? To shoot him?

No he couldn’t stop now; he had come this far so he had to keep going. He had questions, ones he needed answering and he had a strong feeling that the old man wouldn’t avoid questions any more. Swallowing back his fear again the young boy continued along a cliff side slope, passing a crack in the rock big enough for somebody to hide in if need be but he didn’t use it. He was sick of hiding and waiting it out now; he had a house to get to and he wasn’t going to mess around any more. Ted wasn’t a little boy running and crying now; he was a man on a mission and nothing was going to stop that.

Finally, after travelling for who knows how long on foot, Ted saw the house. It stood, slanted as always, with no lights on seeing how what time of day it was. Ted felt a burst of joy and pride at having made it this far without his bike, without his grandmother’s help, even without the help of the old man himself. He let out a shaky laugh and began to run towards the house, fists formed as he ran. 

And that’s when the doors to the Once-ler’s house suddenly burst open and the old man went flying out, propelled from something from inside. Ted skidded to a stop as the old man hit the ground and rolled a few times only to come to a stop, dangerously close to knocking his head on a collection of rocks with the words 'UNKNOWN’ carved in them. Seconds later a man came stepping out of the house after him, a man in a black suit, with a helmet on his head. 

Ted ducked down behind a rock, heart racing.

“Not so tough, are ya old man?” the man snarled as he stalked towards the fallen Once-ler, and grabbed him by the throat and lifted him up off the ground. “I don’t see why nobody’s been able ta kill you before!”

“Nobody else thought… to sneak on an old man fixing his… legs before.” the Once-ler snarled through a bloodied mouth as he dangled from the man’s grasp. He should have been careful, he knew that. But his busted ankle mechanism had needed work so he had thought it be right to tend to both of them at once. And where had that gotten him?

Without the braces on his legs, which was when this man had suddenly broken in on him and without his legs Once-ler was more or less screwed. But not entirely. He brought his hands up and punched the man right in the chest, where it hurt. The man spluttered by the force of the punch, and began to drop the Once-ler but instead slammed him down into the ground and Ted was sure he heard a deafening cracking noise.

Ted wasn’t certain what had him suddenly running out from behind the rock; but he bypassed the two men entirely and raced inside. He ran into the Once-ler’s lounge, where some of his shelves had been smashed by the intruder and his precious belongings scattered now on the floor. If he hadn’t been in a rush Ted may have noticed a shattered photo frame of a young woman who looked an awful lot like his grandmother, but his attention was focused. He grabbed one of Once-ler’s shotguns and raced outside, lfiting it.

“LET HIM GO!” he screamed at the top of his lungs as he raised the shot gun and aimed it at the man.

The helmeted man turned his head, Once-ler still in his grasp hanging awfully limp and still, and stared a Ted. He couldn’t read his expression of course, he was wearing that helmet. Ted didn’t even care that his t-shirt was no longer covering his mouth anymore, either. 

“What’s this? Your idea of security?” the man asked, looking down at Once-ler for a moment. “This a joke?”

“I SAID LET HIM GO!” Ted screamed.

“Or what, you’ll shoot me?” he asked, clearly amused as he began to walk towards Ted.

“I WILL!" 

"You haven’t handled a gun in your life have you?" 

"I HAVE NOW. I SAID LET HIM GO!”

“You don’t even know how to shoot, how do you know it’s even loaded?”

“Guess I’ll FIND OUT.”

The man was almost upon him now and Ted took a step back, and for a fleeting moment Ted did feel like dropping the gun and running but then he saw the old man still in the helmeted man’s grasp. Once-ler’s hat was gone, his goggles weren’t on; he looked so very old, suddenly very weak, and sick. A man who should be dead by now, and yet had held onto life all this time only to have it come crashing down on him like this. The man who had seen him home safely, the man who had been telling him the story of the valley, the man who very well may be his grandfather and the man who was fighting for the future of Thneedville. 

The sound of the shotgun going off echoed throughout the valley, sending near by crows into the skies, cawing loudly in alarm. 

Ted didn’t watch as the man fell to the ground, his eyes had screwed shut, but he did hear the sound of him hitting the dirt. It sounded heavy, and final. He felt something warm trickling against his face and hands and he knew it was the blood of the man since he had been all but upon him when he’d finally pulled the trigger and the shotgun had gone off in his chest. He dropped the gun, eyes now wide, and heart racing as he stood there, hands shaking.

Now the boy could back up, feeling as if the world was now crashing down upon him. He’d just killed someone. He had never even lifted a gun before much less touch one and he’d just shot a man. A bad man, yes. A man who was hurting the Once-ler but wasn’t the Once-ler a bad guy any way why had he done that, was Once-ler already dead what was going to happen now he didn’t know and suddenly Ted was throwing up.

“It it’s… okay, Ted…" 

He was sure he heard a voice but Ted wasn’t sure if it was in his own head or not. 

"It’s okay… it’s okay…”

Ted opened his tear stained eyes to see the Once-ler propping himself against the slain man, blood running down one side of his head, and the thick liquid still oozing from his mouth. His scarf was well and truly stained now thanks to the teeth that had been knocked out of his mouth when the brutish man had attacked him. He reached out to Ted, his bare hand steady in an unfamiliar, shaking world. “Come here. Come… come to me, come here…”

The boy couldn’t remember rushing at the old man, clinging to his thin, old frame but he found himself in his arms all the same, body shaking as the sobs escaped him. Once-ler did nothing but hold him, oblivious to his own injuries now, more focused on the psyche of the young boy who had suddenly become a man in the most worst, possible ways imaginable.

He rocked him as best as he could, rubbing his back, his heart heavy from the burden of what had just transpired. If he had been more careful, if he had been paying attention to his surroundings more it would never have come to this. Ted would not have had to bloody his hands for an old man destined for death. 

Time seemed to become irrelevant to the pair of them, and yet it wasn’t long before Ted had to help the old man back into his house. Once-ler was more or less paralyzed from the legs down, incapable of moving them without assistance, so Ted had to drag him inside. Now they were in the lounge, tending to the old man’s wounds since he had a fair few of them. He had to remove two of his teeth with pliers, without the aid of anaesthetic, but he told Ted he felt little to no pain any more.

“Why…?” Ted asked quietly, as he sat there on the floor besides the man.

“…it’s. Like… hm.” Once-ler sighed as he spat blood into a bowl, now with a big bandage against the side of his head. His hair was sitll blood stained, as was his moustache, but he’d told Ted those little things didn’t matter. “I can’t really explain it without telling you what else happened here.”

“Can I just. Ask you something?" 

"Always.”

“…are you. Are you my grandfather?”

“Yes.”

“Did you always know?”

“Yes.”

“But you didn’t… why didn’t you tell me…?”

“Who wants to be related to me?” Once-ler asked as he pressed a hand to the bandage against his head, looking at Ted sadly. “Who wants to have the blood of a monster in their veins? Not your mother, that’s for sure. You were better off not knowing, yet then here you were, at my door. Wanting to know the truth.”

“I have a right to the truth, the whole truth Don’t I? The town I’m in, you say it’s all your doing but how?” Ted asked desperately, gripping at the bandage in his hands. “How could–how could you do all of that? All of this damage?”

Once-ler sat there, before giving a long, heavy sigh and shook his head. “I can tell you…” he whispered quietly, “And I have a feeling you’ll be the last person I ever tell this story to, and… that makes me happy. Funny, that… I haven’t been happy in so long and it’s over telling you just why I destroyed absolutely everything right in the world.” he lifted his head and gave a shaky smile towards the young boy, gripping against his blood stained scarf. “And after what just happened and everything.”

Ted was quiet for a moment before he gave a shaky, small smile. “Fitting, isn’t it?” he asked quietly before reaching out and took hold of the Once-ler’s hand. 

“…pretty much.” he replied before pulling Ted against him so the boy was sitting besides him against the couch. “Now. Listen close as I tell you just how the ending began…”

_To be continued_


	9. The Seed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Once-ler covers the very last part of his tale to Ted, of how the trees were eventually wiped out, the animals leaving, and the Lorax going away.

Once-ler, as keen and eager as he was back then to answer supply and demand, was working morning till late at night knitting his thneeds. He would harvest, collect, work on them with the spinning wheels and then spend the rest of his time knitting away. Norma would sit up with him too, knitting in their bed together, wishing that they could be possibly doing something other than knitting. The young woman cast a glance towards her husband whose head was bowed as always, blue eyes narrowed, and concentrating on the work at hand that morning. 

“So… when your family arrives…” she started, “They’ll be doing this work?” Norma asked, watching his face carefully.

“Huh?” Once-ler glanced up at her before looking back down at his precious knitting, the almost completed thneed spread out down his body. “Oh yeah sure that’s the idea you know. They come in, they help me produce more of them to keep up with supply and demand and all that fun stuff.” already the demand for the thneeds were bigger than he had ever thought they’d be.

“So does that mean we won’t be having to do this any more because honestly Oncie, my finger joints are aching more each day.” Norma said.

“That’s just because you’re not used to knitting so much; I keep telling you to take a break!” Once-ler insisted, looking down at her hands but mostly at the thneed she was knitting; half way done, and he’s sure she’s dropped a few stitches here and there too. Which, if she had, meant he would have to unpick the whole thing and start again fresh later. Not that he did that with EVERY thneed she knitted, no… just. Most of them…

“I could take a break right now,” Norma said with a playful, slightly wicked smile, as she tilted her glasses and gave her husband a good, long look.

Once-ler stared at her for a moment before his cheeks began to turn red, and he coughed. “Norma please not tonight… we need to make this shipment for tomorrow morning…”

She groaned and threw herself back dramatically on the bed. “Honestly! Normally it’s the woman’s job to reject the man, not the other way around!” she complained loudly, pouting out her bottom lip.

“Yeah well most women aren’t knitting a world changing creation that’s going to revolutionize the way everyone lives!” Once-ler pointed out. “The thneed… man, Norma. You know how great it is, what it’s going to do for us! For everyone!” he held his prized possession in front of him, all but seeing sparkles fly off of it.

This was how most of their nights went, ever since the thneed had picked up in popularity. Once-ler would sit up knitting until late while Norma would either help, try to sleep, or lay there consumed by frustrations. You can only imagine how this part of the story reflected on young Ted, being told how his grandmother had been after such activities with her husband. But, as Once-ler saw it, was only fair for him to hear the whole story now instead of cutting and jumping around too much.

It was a few days later, on a bright sunny morning, when the swomee swans were singing, the humming fish were humming, and the bar-ba-loots were eating when things finally began to shift. The Once-ler was out fishing that morning down by the river, already he had caught a few humming fish which would make for a great meal that day for lunch. The fish around these wasters were always delicious, and had very few bones so there was a minimal risk of choking on one.

A good thing, since Once-ler had come up against some particularly bony fish in his life and had almost choked on fish bones a few times… but not only fish bones but chicken as well, and beef. It was kind of embarrassing but thankfully no such thing had happened here. Yet. Unfortunately the fish in this valley were strange, able to live out of the water so simply fishing them out of the water wasn’t good enough.

He had to literally slam them down against the rocks, breaking their skulls, to kill them. A bloody process but when you had to eat, you had to eat and even if he could go and buy fish from the market in town he much rather them fresh from the stream.

That’s when he heard the approaching roar of an engine; a familiar one, and when he got up he caught sight of something orange and yellow just vanishing into the undergrowth across the river when a large RV came rolling out from the trees. He knew it instantly, and a big grin broke out across Once-ler’s face as he grabbed his fishing for the day and raced along the river, waving towards the vehicle as it continued along the way.

The driver spotted him and honked the horn, and La Cucaracha rang out noisily, sending more near by swomee swans flying. He pointed, and the van seemed to know to follow him and soon he had led it back towards his modest little cottage where the van parked not too far from. He, however, continued rushing into the cottage. 

“Norma! My family’s here!” he called as he dropped the fish into the ice box. “Come on, you got to meet them!”

“Oh gosh meeting the in-laws. I’m all excited.” she smirked as she tugged her apron off since she had been in the middle of baking.

The meeting went as well, or as bad, as Once-ler had thought. His mother had been outraged to hear he had married such a ‘homely’ girl when he could have done much better now that he was rich. Griselda too voiced her interest in the place, saying the valley was a dump while his 'special’ younger twin brothers went around tormenting the poor local animals.. in fact he’s sure he saw one Bar-ba-loot go flying.

“So, now that… all this pleasantness is done with,” Once-ler said as he rubbed his hands together once the introductions were done with, “you all work for me now. I got jobs worked out for each and every one of you. There’ll be harvesters, collectors, spinners and finally knitters. Brett and Chett you’ll be harvesting the tufts, Uncle Ubb you’ll be transporting the harvested tufts to aunt Griselda and Ma who will be running the spools turning the tufts into knittable material and finally myself and Norma will be knitting. I know, I know. It’s rough going at first but we all need to knuckle down, work hard, and I’m sure we can manage just fine!”

“What, but you said we wouldn’t be…” Norma started.

“Hush now don’t you go arguin’ with your husband.” his mother, Henrietta, snapped. “He’s runnin’ a business now aren’t you sweetie?” she asked, her voice sickly sweet and painted on like the make up on her face. “You’ve made me so proud makin’ it this far!”

Once-ler felt a great swell within his heart at hearing that. Finally; recognition. She finally realized how much guts it had taken for him to pack up his things and leave home, travelling for so long seeking out the right material. He had never felt so chuffed in his entire life. He turned his attention to Norma, and gently set his hand to her back. “Don’t worry sweetie, soon we’ll be living in the lap of luxury and you won’t have to lift a finger.”

And so things began off well enough. The twins did their parts, harvesting the tufts from the trees while his aunt and mother worked the spinning wheels turning the tufts into threads that would be capable of being knitted into thneeds by himself and Norma. Every now and then, Once-ler would spot the Lorax in the distance, watching over this with his ever ominous gaze but he never came too close to speak to him. Why, he didn’t rightly know, but he was glad for it. He didn’t want to be bothered by the Lorax, not now, with his family around. What if the creature only appeared to him, and nobody else, making it look as though he was crazy? No doubt Norma would say he was bending to the pressure but what pressure? He was managing just fine; as long as he could get away to do some hunting now and then to destress what little stress he had.

After the first few weeks though, it became apparent that the production line wasn’t moving quick enough. Every time he went into town to sell his thneeds he was all but mobbed by people now, and when he ran out there were always cries for more, more, more. It was like trying to feed a village of starving children with one cracker – impossible.

He was sat at his drawing board one afternoon, working away at the design of his thneed factory because honestly he had to face facts. The way they were doing things now wasn’t going to work forever, so it was only right of him to design a place where the thneeds could be made automatically. Machines to do the knitting, the weaving, the washing and the loading into boxes because word had spread about the thneeds. Orders were coming in day after day from cities from across the country; why, one even came from across the world. It was insane, and no longer could they keep up with demands. And yet still he felt there were issues, things that could be fixed.

“Oncie,” his mother’s voice called to him from outside his window as he sat back observing his work on the factory design. “We got ourselves a little problem.”

“Problem?” Once-ler asked, looking up at her.

“You see we’re not making thneeds fast enough. The harvesting is taking Brett 'n Chet far too long, and with this factory here you’re drawin’ up well… don’t you think it’d be mighty easier on everyone if instead of climbin’ trees on ladders and such, we just chopped 'em on down?”

At this point, Ted’s eyes had widened at learning it wasn’t Once-ler who had thought up the plan of chopping down trees, but his mother. The boy stared at the aged, grey man for a long moment before shaking his head. “Your mother?”

“My Ma. But it was essentially my decision, wasn’t it?” Once-ler asked as he began setting his leg supports back where they belonged, now that they were fixed again and operational. “I could have said yes, I could have hired on more people to help us but no. I didn’t see it that way. I wanted things to be easier for us all, for everyone. I was sick of working hard and getting next to nothing in return so… so I agreed.” he strapped the braces into place, hardly wincing as he did despite Ted saw some welts along his almost skeletal legs. “So we began chopping down the trees. We ended up hiring on more people to work with us, and that helped keep things going fairly regularly until the factory was finally finished and by then… well…”

The factory stood on its hill, and over shadowed Greenville like a monster climbing up out of the ground. There were rails that carried loads full of chopped down Trffula trees into the factory where the wood was chopped free of the precious tufts which went onto be washed, spooled, knitted, and then shipped in giant trucks that went on to ship them throughout Greenville, as well as the country and eventually the world. Every day Once-ler’s wealth continued to grow, his influence blossomed, and he loved it. How could he not? All his life the man had been told he would be nothing, that his dreams and hopes would come to naught but look at him now. He was head of a growing company, he had his family’s respect, and he showered Norma with all the grandest dresses, shiny jewels, and the grandest galas where they would dance and socialize and make their way onto the cover of fancy magazines.

Yes, life had gone exactly according to plan.

Until one day when he was sitting in his office, over looking the reports that day, he felt a presence behind him. The man didn’t like the feel of this presence behind him, and it made his mustache prickle and stand on end. That, too, was another new addition to his appearance. He just felt it made him look awfully distinguished, he felt, even if Norma had laughed at it and called it a dead caterpillar when he had first grown it. Once-ler slowly turned in his big, red, leather chair and looked over his shoulder and standing upon the balcony was the Lorax.

He stood there on all fours, his yellow moustache and eyebrows wafting in the slow, lazy breeze. His green eyes lookwed darker, today, compared to the last time he saw him. The gleam and shine to his coat seemed to have lessened, and yet he was still very impressive standing there. Watching him.

“I was wondering what happened to you.” Once-ler said, pushing his chair back as he got to his feet, adjusting the lapels of his green, pinstripe suit. He walked out to meet the deity, and a little voice in the back of his mind said he was smaller than he’d been last time he saw him but he ignored it. “So, been good?” he asked, sarcastically.

“I have come to make an announcement to you, Once-ler.” the Lorax’s voice echoed within the man’s head, just like how it used to when Once-ler had first come to the valley all those years ago.

“An announcement. Great. What is it?” he asked sourly. 

“I am the Lorax,” the Lorax snapped as he took a step towards him and Once-ler couldn’t help but notice the flowers that blossomed beneath his feet weren’t as tall, or as grand, as they had once been. “Who speaks for the trees which you seem to be chopping as fast as you please. But I’m also in charge of the Brown Bar-ba-Loots who played in the shade in their Bar-ba-loot suits. And happily lived eating Truffula fruits…” the beast tilted his head and stared around Once-ler, his green, ageless yet innocent, eyes landing on the wall of the Once-ler’s office where multiple mounted heads of bar-ba-loots and swomee swans were put on display. There was even an especially huge humming fish mounted on display. His attention returned to the Once-ler. “Now, thanks to your hacking my trees to the ground there’s not enough Truffula fruit to go around.”

The beast moved away from Once-ler and stood at the balcony before leaping up onto his fore legs, resting his massive paws on it as he stared out at the valley which was looking awful thinner now than it used to be. Slowly, Once-ler followed after him and stared down. There, beyond the machines that were hacking away, he saw the brown bar-ba-loots gathering in a group. There had to be thousands of them there, and instead of acting like the dumb animals he knew them to be they seemed to be moving with a single purpose.

“And my poor Bar-ba-loots are all getting the crummies because they have gas and no food in their tummies. They loved living here, but I can’t let them stay.” the Lorax’s voice, within Once-ler’s head, shoot with emotion as it watched the bears mournfully. “They’ll have to find food and I hope that they may.”

He stood there besides the guardian, the beast, the Lorax, and watched as the bears continued to walk. They were soon nothing more than specks on the horizon, and by then, the Lorax had long since departed his company. The man rested his hands on the balcony, hat tilted back slightly on his head and he felt a great… sadness… within him. Even if they were simple animals with simple pleasures in life who did nothing but eat and procreate and make good sport, this had been their home hadn’t it? But regardless of crummies in their tummi–stomachs, business was business and business had to grow. He couldn’t throw away what he had earned, what he had achieved, for animals that could survive happily anywhere else with enough food.

Of course there was some uproar around the bears going missing from some people but they were hardly worth Once-ler’s attention. He had so many better things to worry about. He had a company, a wife, a family to support and he couldn’t be bothered by every little thing. It was around this time, though, that the stress of things began to get to him, and he began to get awfully heavy bags under his eyes. His solution to this, when he went out to meet with the public and the press, was wearing blue sunglasses. Nobody could see the bags, and to help aleviate his stress the man turned to smoking. Being the rich, successful man that he was, he took to smoking Cuban cigars. They were thick, big, expensive and disgusting at first but soon became a wonderful thing for him to enjoy.

“I wish you would stop it’s an awful habit.” Norma whispered sometimes, “It smogs up the air around us something awful.”

“Just open a window.” he would mutter.

It had been months since the bears had vanished, it was late in the evening one day and Once-ler sat in his office once more. He had a cigar held tightly between his teeth as he stared down at the paperwork before him, feeling like a weight had tkaen up place within his heart. It had squeezed its way into his chest when the birds had vanished though he couldn’t rightly explain it away. It wasn’t guilt, surely. Why would he feel sorry? This was his company, his land, his domain now. He was entitled to it, just how his mother told him. He was giving everyone what they wanted, thneeds, so he should not feel bad. And yet… and yet…

He turned in his seat and groaned as he rubbed his green gloved hand over his eyes, feeling sick. Getting to his feet he went outside to get some fresh air but that hardly helped, for the skies were clouded with thick, purplish black smoke that was being emitted by his thneed factory. It wasn’t his fault that the machines operated on a lot of crude oil that had to be pumped somewhere; and he certainly wasn’t aware of the oil being emptied out into the streams and rivers surrounding his company. Why would he know about such things? Not like he signed such paperwork while looking away, because doing so would save his company a bundle in fees that came with getting rid of grime and filth.

“I am the Lorax.” the voice came to him, more like a whisper than before, and the Once-ler spun around on his heels to see the Lorax standing there before him again only this time he couldn’t ignore the fact that the Lorax was smaller. Now, he barely came up to his knees when before he would easily dig his nose into his stomach if he were so inclined to do so. The beast paused to wheeze and cough, and splutter like an old engine slowly dying. His eyes were no longer bright, now. There was a darkness around them, and the flowing locks of his moustache, eyebrows and tail were wilted and droopy. The lustre of his coat was gone. He looked like he had just been used to dust up a filthy room. “Once-ler,” his voice croaked in the man’s mind, “You’re making such smogulous smoke.”

The Once-ler gritted his teeth tighter around his cigar, but said nothing. Lorax was sounding like his wife.

“My poor Swomee-Swans… why, they can’t sing a note. No one can sing who has smog in their throat. And so,” the weak, sickly looking guardian hobbled to the stairs that led form the balcony to the ground below, “Please pardon my cough but they cannot live here. So I’m sending them off.”

As soon as those words had entered Once-ler’s mind he heard a sudden, loud, rushing noise. The man turned and looked up at the skies and stared, eyes wide behind his sunglasses, as thousands of brids suddenly took up from the ground. There were so few trees now, just how many were there? Once-ler didn’t know, he didn’t know anything at this moment in time when he watched the golden birds take off into the skies. Feathers fell from the skies as they did, and it was almost like snow falling and yet it was heart breaking to witness rather then heart warming. He reached out and plucked one out of the air and stared down at it, heart doing strange things within his chest.

“What’s more,” snapped the sickly Lorax as he suddenly rushed up to Once-ler and bared his small, dull looking teeth at him now. “Let me say a few words about gluppity-glup!” he suddenly bit down onto the expensive coat tails of the Once-ler’s coat and began to tug. 

“Whoa what are you-stop that do you know how expensive this–!!” Once-ler spluttered before yelping since the Lorax was all but dragging him down the stairs now. He felt his heart turn to stone when he saw where the guardian was leading him, taking him. 

“Your machinery chugs on day and night without stop, making gluppity-glup and schloppity-schlopp,” obviously the animal didn’t know the words for grease, grime, oil or sludge. How would he? “And what do you do with this leftover goo?” the voice in his head demanded despie the weakness to it, “I’ll show you, you dirty old Once-ler you…!”

They were at the river, now. Once-ler wished they weren’t, he wanted to be as far away from this scene as he could possibly be because the smell was horrendous. The filth in the water did not mix well, and the stench of the crude oil and the decaying fish that littered the edges of the river were disgusting. It crept up his nose, invaded his eyes, and made his stomach do horribly spinny, flip flop motions and he felt like he could throw up.

Letting go of his coat tails the small guardian staggered towards the water where he nosed at one of the dead fish whose scales were coated with thick black grime. “You’re glumping the pond where the Humming fish hummed…” the beast whispered weakly in his mind, “No more can they hum for their gills are all gummed… so I’m sending them off.” he lifted his head and turned to stare up at the man who stood there with no expression on his face. “Their future is dreary, they’ll walk on their fins and get woefully weary in search of some water that isn’t too smeary.”

Once-ler said nothing, how could he, when he watched those Humming fish who were gifted with walking on land began to crawl out of the water. The oil and grime clung to their fins and scales as they did so, leaving their home. Just like every thing else. The brown bar-ba-loots, the swomme-swans, and now the humming fish. Each and everyone had been forced to leave. Was this his fault? Could it be his? But if they had wanted to stay they should have been stronger. They shouldn’t have rolled over so willingly. Animals had to be strong to survive and these animals simply weren’t. They were simple sport, good food, and made good pelts and trophies. There was no other purpose for their existance. Not like him, no. Not like him.

The guilt was burning away inside of him, it lit a fire, and like a fire being set on a dry day in a hot summer season it erupted into a fire that he could not control, not any more. “Now YOU listen to ME!” he suddenly screamed at the top of his lungs, making the Lorax suddenly step away from him, eyes wide. “I have done nothing wrong! I have my rights, I have my obligations! I have worked so HARD to get to where I am and here you are, all you do is nag nag nag well guess what? You, you are NOT the boss of me!” the man stormed over to the creature and grabbed the Lorax by the front of his throat and lifted him up off of the ground so they were now eye to eye, his blue eyes burning with an inensity and ferocity that the Lorax had never seen before. “I intend to go on doing just what I do! And for your information, Lorax, I’m figuring on biggering, and biggering, and biggering my company and turning more and more Truffula trees into thneeds!” he spat, snarling each word like a machine of anger buit up by guilt and rage, and drew the Lorax until their noses were practically touching. “And nothing is going to stop me!”

And he threw the Lorax. He threw the creature that had once been almost as big as him, but now was small, frail, and sickly. The guardian made no noise as it hit the ground and rolled along the lifeless ground and came to a halt by one of the many, many tree stumps. “I should have killed you when I had the chance, I should have mounted your head on my wall to show everyone that progress is better, that progress is BEST and living in the past is only for idiots and stupid little guardians who don’t have any powers at all! If you really had them, if you’re really some powerful guardian then why didn’t you use any of your, quote unquote, POWERS to stop me, huh?” he stormed after the beast as he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small hand gun.

Why a gun? He was a rich, and powerful man. There had been people lobbying against him, all pointless, weak cries of ants against a powerful boot and he’d paid them no mind but that didn’t mean he couldn’t protect himself. He spun the barrel, and aimed it down at the fallen Lorax’s head, but did not pull the trigger yet. “TELL ME WHY.” he screamed, ignoring the tears running down his face. “WHY DIDN’T YOU STOP ME?”

The Lorax did not move, not for a while, but finally his orange head turned and his sickly green eyes stared up at the Once-ler. “…I told you.” the voice within his mind, now a whisper, said. “It doesn’t work that way.”

“You’re a FRAUD!” Once-ler snarled, holding the gun in both hands now, trying to quell his shaking hands. “Y-you’re nothing, you’re nothing but a fake and you’ve done nothing to help anyone! They’re just going to continue the way they are, and nothing…” he pressed the barrel against the animal’s head, “is going to stop me.”

And at that moment they heard a very loud whack from across the fields came a sickening sound that imbedded itself in Once-ler’s memory, and heart, for the rest of his life. The sound of one of his pattented tree chopping machines doing its job, just like they did every single day of the year as they had been doing for years but now, now it had just chopped down a single, lone, pink Truffula Tree.

The last Truffula Tree of them all.

Once-ler lifted his gaze and stared, his tearful eyes wide as he watched the tree teeter like a falling ballerina, before it fell to the ground and lay there. It kicked up dust and filth as it landed, and it felt as though somebody had suddenly sucker punched him. It felt as if the whole world had suddenly shivered, and groaned, and mourned the last of a species and all of it focused on Once-ler. He suddenly felt eyes. Countless eyes. Engless eyes. The bar-ba-loots. The swomee-swans. The humming fish. His family. His wife. He dropped the gun and staggered away, eyes wide, whole frame shaking.

“That may stop you.” the whisper of the Lorax in his mind said, which reminded him of the creature. He looked down at it, to see it still curled on the ground here he’d trown it. “That’s it…” the beast whispered in his mind, sounding oddly at peace, and yet at the same time soul crushingly saddened it made the tears in Once-ler’s eyes flow even faster.

“T-that. That’s it?” Once-ler whispered. “No, that. That can’t be it, you… there has to be more. There IS more!” Once-ler begged, falling to his knees besides the guardian.

“There is no more…” the Lorax murmured serenly, “I know because… they were my life force… every tree… was a part of me…”

“A part of–what?” stammered the man. “What do you…”

“There can’t be… trees without me and… I can’t be… without the trees…”

It all suddenly made sense to him. Why the beast had been looking sickly every time he had seen him from afar. Why he was smaller each time, why his fur was thinning, why it no longer glowed. Why his eyes looked so old and ancient now, aged, sickly and dark. He was dying. He had been dying ever since Once-ler had decided upon chopping down the trees of the valley and forest, ever since he broke his promise tot he guardian. “N-no you, you can’t–”

“I can… and I am… but this… you…” his green, dead looking eyes, turned to look at Once-ler from where he lay on the ground. “This is your curse..”

“My.. my…” he whispered.

“You’ll live… where no one else can… you breath this… air… fine… no one else can… that is your curse, till your end of days… that you will live… with the crows…" 

Once-ler clutched at his chest, heart racing within his chest. What did he mean? That the quality of air here was that bad that nothing could live here but himself? And birds? Is this what he was being given, what he was being handed? "No!” Once-ler grabbed the Lorax and lifted him off the ground and held him against his chest, “No please, I can fix this I can fix it! Y-you won’t be dead I can do something I’ll find the seeds I’ll plant them all and it’ll all grow and you’ll be back and–”

“One day.” the Lorax’s voice was small and tiny now, beneath a whisper. It was so quiet Once-ler had to strain to listen to his own thoughts. “One day… the air will… be good… the time will… be right but… not for a long… long… time… you’ll… know when it’s… time…”

He wanted to beg, he wanted to plead, and yet Once-ler knew it was pointless and useless to do so. What he’d done all these yeas, chopping down each and every tree, could not be undone by wishes and pleads. The Lorax was dying, and it was his fault. The animals were gone, and it was his fault. The trees were gone, and with them, the guardian of it all. All of this was his fault. The guilt that had been growing up over time suddenly enveloped him and took him into its arms as tightly as he was holding onto the Lorax.

The tall man bent forward, pressing his forehead against the Lorax’s, and could do nothing but sob. How long he sat there nursing the guardian he didn’t know but he soon felt that warm, if but sickly, feeling he had from touching the beast finally fade into cold stillness. The wind that had been blowing all this time suddenly stopped. The whole world appeared to go silent, deathly, and still. Once-ler lifted his head and stared in utter regret and pain as the small body continued to shrink. The Lorax grew smaller, and smaller, until Once-ler was left kneeling in the dirt with a single, solitary Truffula tree seed in his hands.

~*~

Ted sat there in the Once-ler’s house, now at the table, expression blank. Once-ler, again on his feet, was now standing, staring outside his window.

“…you did all of this. Like you said you had…” Ted whispered.

“Yes.” Once-ler said quietly. “I killed everything. I had killed a God with my greed and made it so nothing else could live in this land. I… everyone who breathed the air got sick. Terribly sick. My twin brothers died within days. My mother a week later. My aunt, my uncle, dead after a month. Everyone had to wear masks and Norma… my… my poor Norma she. She was pregnant and almost lost the baby but they saved her, your mother, born too early and I almost had to bury my wife and my daughter along with the rest of my family and I couldn’t. I simply couldn’t. I was at rock bottom. My company emptied out and I let the first man though my doors take it off my hands and everyone hated me and despised me but could you blame them?” he turned his old, greyed head to look at Ted. “I brought about the biggest ecological disaster this world has ever seen. I allowed the madman to buy the town that I had been designing and turned it into a living Hell for everyone within. I made my wife live in that Hell, but every week she managed to get away to see me. I missed my daughter growing. I missed my grandson being born. I’ve… missed out on so much. But I fight. I fight for the Lorax who will rise again. I fight for the trees who will grow again and… I think it’s finally time.”

He walked over to Ted. “That word, Unless. You’ve seen it, haven’t you?”

“The rock? Yeah but–”

“That was here. When I returned from the Lorax’s death. Always that word, left here to stare at me every single day to remind me. To have me think. I’ve thought for years what it means and now I think I do. Unless someone like you cares a whole awful lot, nothing is going to get better. It’s not.” he looked down at Ted, before reaching out and ran his thumb against the boy’s forehead. “You’re breathing the air and you’re not sick. Normally just a few minutes would result in severe couging and death in a few days but you… you are thriving. You aren’t sick. You’re the sign. You’re the one I’ve been waiting for, the one to show me the time is now. That the time is right.”

“Time is right, for what?” he asksed.

The old man stood there for a moment before reaching within his jacket pocket. He pulled out a tightly wrapped bundle that was no bigger than a grape. He unwrapped it and handed Ted something he wouldn’t think he’d see in his life. A seed. The seed. It was small, brown, round, with a small yellow swirl. Once-ler took Ted’s hand, and gently placed the seed into it, and closed the boys hand around it. “Time for change to finally happen. Take the seed. Plant it. Give it fresh water, and clean air when you can. Grow a whole forrest of Truffula trees and protect them from axes.”

“But what about O'Hare? What about mom and-and Grammy and Audrey and everyone else–”

Once-ler grabbed his goggles from where they had been hanging around his neck and snapped them into place over his eyes. He also grabbed his black, dented hat. The same had he wore when everything went to Hell would be the same hat he wore when he fixes everyting, too. 

“No more children will be buried under tree stumps. No more people paying for air. No more families being ripped apart by a mad man in charge. No, Ted. Today is the day it all comes to an end. Today. The final battle takes place.”

_To be concluded_


	10. The Return

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s all come down to this. The resistance is rallied, the bullets fly, and the end of an era finally takes place. The final show down, and thus the healing can begin.

Ted watched as the old man pushed the table and chair that sat in the middle of the floor out of the way, kicking up some dust and loose pieces of paper and bandages as he did. Once-ler then pressed a hand to Ted’s shoulder and pushed him back to the edge of the room as he slammed his other hand against one of the posters, smacking O'Hare dead centre of his face. There was a click, followed by a low, rumbling noise, and the floor began to shake.

“What’s going on?!” Ted asked, grabbing onto Once-ler’s jacket to stop himself from falling over.

“Rallying the troops.” Once-ler said as the floor began to open as if it were the opening to the Bat Cave. It creaked and groaned from the strain (it had been probably years since it had been opened) but soon there was a gaping opening running down the middle of the floor but had stopped before reaching the two of them, ensuring neither took a bad tumble downwards into the pitch blackness.

Beneath Once-ler’s house was a cavern, and there were winding stairs that led down into the darkness that were illumiated by what little light Once-ler had up in the lounge.

“Whoa… I never…” the boy whispered, totally wowed by what he saw, that this kind of thing was possible in real life and not just in comic books.

“You didn’t think I was just stuck in this house did you?” Once-ler asked as he grabbed one of his near by candle holders, lighting the small candle with his cigar. “Luckily I got some generated power down there that’s been building up over time, but the lever to turn it all on is down there. C'mon boy, follow me.” he began making his way down rock stairs (with no hand, or guard rail) that looked like they had been carved by hand, and knowing Once-ler, they probably had been.

Ted stuck closer to him as they walked down into the darkness and the smell of the cavern rose to meet him; it smelled old, and a bit stuffy and there was a tang of chemicals in the air. Probably a left over residue from the pollution of his factory for years. Naturally there was also the smell of stone, but that was to be expected in a cavern. Finally they reached the bottom of the stairs that weren’t too deep, thankfully, and the old man walked towards one of the walls.

“Let there be light.” Once-ler whispered as he grabbed a lever in the darkness and pulled it down, the sound of the old metal screaming in defiance of being moved but it finally clicked into place and the room erupted into light. Ted yelped and covered his eyes, seeing sun spots dance in front of his eyes. He couldn’t see it but there were a few scooters against the wall near by them, and he didn’t even see a bag marked ‘Explosives’ that sat in the corner, but more importantly there was one wall of the cavern taken up entirely by what looked like a high-tech security surveillance system.

It, like the lights that were strung up by string on the ceiling, burst to life when the power was restored. The power down here had been generating for decades now, waiting for this day, and there was no fault in the power as it gave a soft, welcoming hum. Once-ler stood back to admire his handiwork, what had once been the security system for his factory transformed over the years into a machine that would help get the story, his message, to the people in the near by city. “Beautiful.” he whispered shakily as he reached up and rubbed his gloved hand against one of the screens. He honestly feared he would never get to live this moment and yet here he stood, on the brink of war, and he felt hot tears prickling at the corner of his eyes but he forced them away. “Right. To work.”

There were many things Ted had done today he thought he would never do. Assisting old Once-ler, shooting a man, learning the old man was his grandfather, that his mother had almost died at birth… but now he was operating a video camera that looked like it had been ripped out of a television station. Given who he was dealing with, it probably had been. He had watched the old man work away at the system, his fingers flying over the buttons and knobs, adjusting volumes and pulling levers. “So what… is this exactly?”

“O'Hare has a channel override system in place.” Once-ler explained, “Something patented after my own design. Basically in an emergency every television, radio and computer screen as well as cell phone (for those who can afford them) in Thneedville will play a feed on that channel. I’m hacking into it, and broadcasting my message.”

“W-wow what wait. You could have done this any time!” Ted spluttered as he looked at the aged camera he had to operate, then back to the equally aged man.

“No. I had to wait. Like the Lorax said. I had to wait for the right time for when The Wall can be breached and the guards challenged. For years I’ve been secretly channelling the stolen weapons I took from the guards back into the people’s hands, even getting assistance from outside sources. I have moles everywhere, Ted.” the old man turned his head to look at Ted, his expression grave. “All of them waiting for the day I give the word for the upheaval to finally take place. From what you told me, that young girl’s parents going missing, I think O'Hare knows it’s D-Day as well. He’s hoping to have a bargaining chip but he won’t. Government should fear the people, not the other way aorund.”

So here Ted stood, pointing his camera at the old man who now sat behind a desk that had once been his grand, luxurious office desk back when his factory was in use. The chair though was humble and small, broken in one of its legs but fixed by a sheet of metal. He had removed his hat for this, having it sit before him to the side on the desk but everything else was in place. His scarf, his cigar, and his goggles settled against the top of his head. Besides him was a simple box with a red button; ironic that the biggest hack in the history of Thneedville would begin with a simple button press but that’s what hapened. He pressed the button and the system behind them whirled to life.

~*~

“We just can’t prove they’re part of the organization, Sir. Even, even the questioning methods aren’t working on them. Four already have fallen to the shocks and–” Marty, one of the twin heads of interrogation and security, was reporting to O'Hare about the people they had 'collected’ today. He understood his boss was afraid after the invasion of the blimp, the loss of his hand, but snatching up random civilians and subjecting them to these questions, it was insane.

“I don’t CARE, Marty.” O'Hare snarled, “Some of them has to know something! He’s up to something, he’d never be so…” he stared down at his right hand which was still a bandaged mess, but he had forced a prosthetic over it. The injury burned and stung like Hell but no way was he going to walk around with a stump for a hand. Its replacement was one of the highest pieces of technology they had, it squeezed, it grabbed, it held things all by brain impulse and muscle movement in his arm. A metal hand. “If it takes a few lives then it takes a few lives, now–”

The near by flat screen suddenly burst to life, startling O'Hare and Marty since neither of them had been near the remote to power it on. At the same time too, their cell phones began to light up as well but there were no energetic telephone jingles playing. It went straight to playing.

On the screen sat a man; a man O'Hare knew, a man everyone under his thumb knew. 

“I KNEW IT!” O'Hare screamed, pointing at the screen.

“Greetings, citizens of Thneedville.” Once-ler’s voice was calm, collected, though he forever sounded as if he had smallish bees up his nose, “I’m sure most of you know me, or have heard of me. I am The Once-ler. Yes, I am real, and no, I am not just a fable made up. I am a man, a human, as real as the rest of you. I’m sure you are all currently aware of the opression in which you all live under, beneath a madman who has forced you all into a lifestyle I wouldn’t push onto mice.”

“TRACK THIS SIGNAL WHERE IS IT COMING FROM?!” O'Hare screamed, trying to shake his phone into working for him but it only played the old man’s voice for him. “HE HACKED MY SYSTEM HOW DID HE HACK MY SYSTEM?!”

“For decades I have lived with regret for my actions for it is my fault you all live the lives you do. My wrong doing brought about the extinction of the trees, the exodus of the animals, the barren wasteland that surrounds your precious town and the cloudy, murky skies that travel overhead. All of it is my fault and I have lived with that guilt for decades but I have turned that grief and sorrow into fuel, into an energy.” the old man lifted his hand, forming a fist before slamming it down on the table. “No more am I going to witness people being evacuated from the city to die slow and horrible deaths. No more am I going to bury children beneath tree stumps.

"The time is now. This is it. This is what we have been working for, what we’ve been planning, for decades. It is time O'Hare learn that his power over all of you is fictitious, that you can be a free people, a healthy people. You all deserve the best, you all deserve to feel the wind on your cheeks and feel the grass beneath your feet and you will. The time is now. The time is right. Take arms, my people, and show these people we mean business. The Lorax will rise again.”

And the screen went black.

~*~

“Now I need you to get into town.” Once-ler said as he pushed Ted up the stairs, carrying a spare scooter behind him as he did. “You need to get back in, I know you can do it, and I believe in you Ted. You,” he reached the door to his house and pushed it open and they walked past the dead body that still laid where it had fallen, “you Ted.” Once-ler turned the thirteen year old and looked down at him as he grasped his shoulders tightly in both hands. “You hold the future in your hands. The very last seed in all existence. It’s my gift. I ruined the past but you can fix the future. Suiting, given you’re my grandson but I am so, so sorry you had to suffer the sins of your grandfather. I can never… never apologize enough to you, to your mother, your grandmother my wife and everyone else. I’m sorry I brought all this bloodshed onto all of you but… it will be worth it. It will.” he cupped Ted’s face now, and for once, his hands were shaking. Ted had never felt his hands shake before.

“Please forgive me.” the old man begged, voice straining with emotion Ted had never heard, even when he had spoken of his family dying around him.

“I forgive you.” Ted said instantly, “I d-do. This had to happen, and. It’s happening.”

“Good, yes… now go. Go.” he picked up the scooter but before he could hand it to Ted the young boy had his arms around him, hugging him tightly. Ted wasn’t sure what it was, but something was telling him this could very well may be the last time he would be in the old man’s company. “Ted… We… don’t have…”

“I love you, Grandpa.” Ted whispered to him. “I always will.”

“…I love you too, Ted.” Once-ler replied, wrapping one arm around the boy tightly, holding him close, wishing he could hold onto him forever and shield him from the Hell that was being unleashed upon the town. If he had been a better man he would have been a bigger part of his life, Thneedville could have remained Greenville, he would have witnessed his mother growing up and he could have been there for every New Year, every Christmas, every birthday… but life had not gone that way. He shuddered, fought back tears, and pulled away from the boy. “Go now. Go. Go!”

And so he stood there besides the collection of rocks that read 'Unless’, and watched his grandson ride away into the distance. Once-ler stood there, hands shaking, before turning and vanishing into his house only to appear not too long after. His hat was back on top of his head, goggles in place, cigar between his teeth and he was dragging a bag full of something large and heavy. He walked, dragging the goods, but soon stopped when he passed a certain hill.

He turned his head and glanced at the headstones that stood in a line. They had aged over the years, cracked, chipped, two of them had crumbled after one assault on his house. It was his family, what was left of them, at least.

He knew their love had been false, at least his mothers, aunt and uncles. They had only wanted his wealth while his twin brothers had been nothing but fool hardy, dumb men who had their hearts in the right place but their brains in the other. He had killed them all with his stupidity and actions and even with their mistreatment clearly marking his memories, he loved them still. He missed them, still.

“Wish me luck.” he said before he grabbed the bag again, and hurried on and vanished into the fog which now was nothing more but a misty blannket in the air.

~*~

As Ted approached Thneedville, he could hear action. He could hear screams of people, the sound of gunfire and explosions. Already there were pillars of smoke spiralling up from the town into the late afternoon skies and, he realized again, how much natural sun was actually peeking thorugh the clouds. Was Once-ler right? Was the smog finally moving on after decades? Nothing lasted forever, after all, and maybe it had needed so long to repair itself? He wasn’t a man of nature, so he didn’t really know, but he had a feeling he was right.

After all, if it wasn’t, why wasn’t he sick or dead already? He wore no mask, and had no need to. Sure there was a slightly sour taste to the air but it wasn’t too horrific or choking. The young boy reached that door he had exited the first night and pushed it open, and chose to ride the old scooter along the ledges above where the chemicals spilled. The black tar seemed lessened today, not as high as it was last time. Curious indeed. But he continued on and when he peeked out the exit, and stared down at the city beneath him he gulped.

The fire fight wasn’t happening in his immediate area but it was happening, he could see bodies on the ground, blood splattering walls and the floor. In the distance he heard continuous gun blasts. 

“Oh boy…” Ted whispered. His town had become a battleground. He made his way down the stairs quickly and rode through the streets, avoiding the worst of the gun fights as well as he could. He didn’t want to risk being shot, but that didn’t mean he was unarmed. As much as he had hated it, Once-ler had given him a hand gun and some spare bullets to carry in his pocket. The gun sat heavily in his pocket and whilst Once-ler would have iked to have given him a shot gun a hand held one would be easier to smuggle back into town. 

“DEATH TO O'HARE!” he heard the near by scream of a man and he just zipped around the corner before a group of people came storming past, narrowly missing him since they were being persued by a group of guards. One of the people spun around and unleashed a round into them, causing two guards to stumble and fall before the others retaliated and the shooter fell not a few paces later.

“I gotta get home.” Ted whispered shakily. His family name was already known to O'Hare, weren’t they? They had to be. Even if his grammy had changed her surname back to her maiden one, O'Hare had to know of her connection to Once-ler and if she was hurt… or worse… or his mother… he really didn’t know what he’d do.

The fighting appeared to be happening in the central part of town around the buildings, so the further out Ted went to the suburbs towards his house, the safer it was. No surprise nobody was out on the streets; children were probably being huddled inside by their mothers and fathers, or left in the care of others since Once-ler had said he had people everywhere. Had e lived next to people in the cause as well, without even knowing? Well, yes, he had. Audrey was a prime example of this, whose parents were now missing…

Ted finally reached his house and looked around frantically, before racing upstairs. The seed, still in his pocket, needed to be tended to. The boy pushed into his bedroom and looked around frantically for somewhere it could be placed, somewhere safe, and he took it out of his pocket.

“TED!” Helen’s voice suddenly rung out from downstairs. The boy spun around and he put the seed down on his bench and didn’t mess around in putting his hand down into his pocket where his gun was and held it tightly in his hand as he rushed from the room. When he reached the top of the stairs he looked down into the lounge and saw his mother standing there, but not alone. A man in black stood besides her, an arm tightly holding her arm, holding her against him. “T-ted you’re back oh thank God I thought I’d never see you again,” the woman spluttered, tears running down her face. “You have no idea–”

“Shut up.” the man said to her before looking up at Ted, a simple, pleasant smile on his face. “Ted. I come here on behalf of O'Hare. I believe you have something he’s after.”

“Y-yeah?” Ted demanded, keeping himself sidelong to the man so he couldn’t see where his hand was.

“The seed, Ted. We know you have it. The old fool would ensure somebody had it and who better than his grandson?”

“So you know about that.” Ted said shakily.

“O'Hare’s always known.” the man snarled. “Now. Give me the seed, or your dear mother here is going to meet with an unfortunate end.”

“What’ll happen when we give it to you?”

“You’ll meet an unfortunate end any way, but at least it would be delayed a little and you could get to hug your mom one last time.” the man smiled simly, and Helen gave out a gasp as the grip on her arm tightened.

“Ted no, please tell me you don’t–RUN. Just run Ted, run don’t do this you can’t be this deep please God–” Helen was suddenly back handed right across the face by the man, knocking her glasses from her. Ted screamed at seeing his mother mishandled, and feared the man would go further but the fear fueled his actions.

He suddenly raced down the stairs, pulled the gun from his hands and aimed it right at the man. There was no hesitation this time, because he saw the man going for his own fire arm in his pocket and the next thing any of them knew there was a loud bang, Ted’s hand burned, and the man fell.

Helen screamed in absolute fear at it all, falling to her knees, shaking at the sight of the man with dead eyes now laying in her lounge and his blood having splattered against her face and shoulder, now slowly pooling out from he back of his head onto her floor. But Ted was there immediately, his arms around her, his whole body shaking with adrenaline. Was that smart? Probably not. What if he had friends waiting outside? Where was Grammy? “M-Ma it. Where’s Grammy, where–”

“She left. That horrible message came on and she just left. I don’t. I don’t know where she is or what she’s doing I told her I begged her not to leave but she said she had to she had no choice and where in the world did you get a gun Ted don’t tell me oh God please no, no…” Helen rambled, clinging to the boy tightly, her only son, the only thing she had to hold onto right now that kept her grounded in some kind of reality from the madness breaking down around them.

“We needed protection Ma and yes. I have it. I got the seed, and–”

“It’s alive.”

The voice startled them and Ted looked up to see Audrey standing on the stairs, holding something in her hands. She looked shaken, scared, she had probably gone to find somewhere to hide the second the man had come calling and now it was safe, had emerged. “I just. Something knocked your water bottle over and… and…” she made her way shakily down the stairs and showed them what she was talking about.

The seed Once-ler had given Ted, it had already begun to slowly open. Already there was a simple, small, green shoot coming out of it. The seed was very much alive, and was already thriving with just a little bit of water. Nobody in this room had witnessed a real, living plant before even in such an early stage of life and the trio were silent, still, in shock of it all.

This seed, what was left of the Lorax, was what the Once-ler had been fighting for. To see it come to life again, to wait for the right time for it to grow and now was that time. If just a little bit of water could do this, what would putting it into the ground bring about? Ted shakily reached out for the seed before another man came bursting through the door. He wasn’t too tall, but he could probably over power them if he wanted. The man wore sunglasses, was bald, and had a fairly impressive looking brown moustache on his upper lip. The name on his breast lapel said ’Sy’.

Helen screamed and got between herself and the two children immediately, but the man held his hands up. “Whoa whoa whoa!”

“Who are you??” Helen demanded, having grabbed the gun out of Ted’s hands already, quicker than he thought she could, and had it aimed athis head. Ted had never thought his mother would even know how to hold it properly but here she was. Maybe knowing how to handle a gun came naturally in this family, consiering who her father was. “Why are you here? Are you going to kill us, take the seed? Kill it too?”

“No, no I swear God no. Please.” the man with the black glasses insisted, Sy, hands still up. “I, I work for the Once-ler.” he said.

“Prove it.” Ted said, hand clinging to his mother’s shoulder and the other grasping at Audrey’s arm. “What was the name of his mule, the one who brought him to the valley?”

“Melvin. His n-name was Melvin." Sy answered.

"What was the first animal the Once-ler hunted?” the boy asked, voice shaking.

“A swomee swan. A fat one.” he answered correctly, again.

Ted stood there, watching him, Helen not even attempting to lower the gun yet. “Why are you here?”

“I had to come, had to. To check on the family. His family. Where…?” he looked around, eyes widening behind his glasses. “Where is she?”

“If you mean my mother she’s gone. She took off the second after that message started.” Helen said shakily, her hands still on the gun, and pointed at the man. 

“God no, if he gets her… O'Hare’s gone insane. He’s gone mad. He’s having them shoot anyone now, women, children, any body caught in his way. I had to ensure you stay safe, that was my job, that’s what I’ve been waiting for all these years–" Sy was cut off.

"Keep us safe by coming with me. I’m going into town, I need to find my Grammy!” Ted said, “And AUdrey’s parents, and-”

“I can’t let you do that, his orders to me directly were to keep you safe!” he shot back.

“Then you’ll fail us if my Grammy dies!” Ted shot back, “Please! The seed will be safe, it–”

There was a huge explosion from town so loud they could hear it out here. Immediately the group ran from the house, just like everyone else in the suburbs, and looked towards the smoking city. The blimp, the one that O'Hare normally called home, the one that always floated above the city like some ugly circling fat bird had been hit. It was erupting into flames right there as it began falling to Earth, thick black smoke billowing up from the falling carrier. Those gathered stared, wide eyed, as the 'O'Hare’ logo burned up. It came to a crash, crumbling a building in its landing, sending up more dust and smoke. They could hear the screams of people from here.

“…get in the van. We’re going.” Sy said gravely.

~*~

When a man is losing all what he has, he more or less loses himself in the process. O'Hare had always been trodden on growing up; he was a small man, small for his height, and people continually judged him by it. Women scorned him, men abused him, he more or less hated himself but what he lacked in height he made up for in personality, and power. He promised himself, as a child, that one day all of the people would respect him, and fear him, as they should. And then his uncle died, his rich, successful uncle and he had no one else to leave his fortune to and it fell into O'Hare’s hands and he used it. He made that money work for him.

He could still recall the day he walked into the office of the Once-ler, a man with a sorry excuse for a moustache, in an office that looked like it had seen better days. The mounted heads of animals were on the floor, broken. Portraits lay amongst them in shattered glass. He was a broken man in a broken building filled with broken dreams and it had only taken half an hour of smooth talking to get the man to hand over the deeds for Thneedville, saying he was sick of it all, saying he wanted nothing more to do with it.

It had been ridiculously easy, with the money he now had. He climbed the ladders of power, buying off people, and before he knew it the entire city was his lock, stock and barrel. He was in charge, and these sickly people needed to be cared for and he would mkae them need him, make them depend upon him and nobody would ever question him.

But then the man came back. He, the broken monster in his hide away came back, saying what he was doing was wrong. Opposing him. The first man to oppose him in years and O'Hare was not pleased, he was not happy, so his grip tightened on the people and yet no matter how tightly he held onto them people were slipping.

The resistance had been growing for years, he knew this, he had questioned thousands of people and sent out those he had discovered as traitors to either an early death with a bullet between the eyes or sending them to suffer a slow, painful death out beyond The Wall. But he couldn’t do that to this man, he simply couldn’t. Not through lack of trying, of course. He had sent out countless men to find him, to get him, to kill him and yet every time they failed. The old man was prepared, he was skilled, and he was deadly. On top of that he could breathe the air, for some reason.

That night when his hand was shot clean off told him just how closely he’d gotten to breaking his nerve, but now it was officially over. People were swarming the streets. Weapons he hadn’t anticipated were being used. His beloved blimp had just been shot out of the sky and destroyed one of his buildings. They had com out of no where and he thought he was ready, but he really wasn’t.

And so here he was, amidst the biggest upheaval he’d ever seen and it was only about to get a lot worse. He had grabbed one of his best oxygen tanks, strapped to his back, the mouth piece firmly in place. He was going to get in one of his cars, make it to the Wall, and escape through the exit and leave. He’d find another town, a better place, and no one would be none the wiser.

He was already in his car, driving through the streets, he was certain he’d hit some people but like Hell was he going to stop. Why would he? He had no reason to, he had to run, he had to run to save his life and his wealth and his neck and in no way was he going to stop. He tore out near the park, where a giant statue of himself had been toppled by a group of people, who were still gathered around it, cheering their success. He drove past them, and was just approaching the wall and was lifting the remote that would open up a hidden passage way when the wall did something he hadn’t expected it to.

It fell.

There was a rumbling roar of multiple explosions that grew with ferocity and tore through the air, drawing all attention to the park area as the flames and the smoke continued to tear up from the destroyed blimp not too far away, and draw the attention of everyone. The wall was bending, buckling, and O'Hare slammed on the brakes and began to reverse his car but a large sheet of metal landed on the engine, killing it, pining the car. O'Hare screamed and he ran from the now partly crushed car, unable to grab his money, and his tank snagged and he was left simply wearing the face mask.

Smoke filled the air and the sound of grinding, screaming metal accompanied it as it tore through people’s ears. The explosions continued, judging by the sound of it, they were running along the entirety of the outside wall, bringing it down, destroying it from the outside. O'Hare staggered back and thankfully some of the men who still supported him, how some may never know maybe they were brain washed, came to their bosses aid to defend him from the gathering masses of people. 

The dust finally began to settle and there, where the worst of the assault done on the wall, was a machine O'Hare had only seen in passing decades ago. It was one of the tree lopping machines, aged and rusted as it was, it had been put back together, and sitting at the controls of it was the old man. 

“YOU!” O'Hare screamed, “You–you’ve killed everyone, you’ve killed us all!” he shouted, pointing to the man accusingly. “The air, the poisons you’re murdering an entire city of–”

A gun shot just missed hitting O'Hare’s feet and he backed up and fell, Once-ler’s rifle at the ready, aimed at him as he now stood at the controls of his tree-chopping machine. If he had wanted to he would have shot him and yet he hadn’t; it had been a warning shot. Why? What was going on? Why was he giving him a chance? To what, redeem himself?

“Get him!” O'Hare shouted, face red, but as the men began to advance on the old man who stood amongst the twisted rubble of The Wall the rest of those gathered rose up at the same moment. There were shouts and screams as they filled the air, people clashing, fighting. Gun shots rang out and when given the chance, O'Hare saw the old man was already gone from the machine, lost in the chaos.

“KILL HIM! WHOEVER KILLS HIM WILL BE FAMOUS!” O'Hare screamed at the top of his lungs. 

“Grammy? Grammy!” a voice drifted over the chaos, and it belonged to Ted. Sy was running with the boy, Helen keeping up with them as well. Audrey had been lost in the crowds, probably searching for her parents and family, but everyone had their own reason for being here and it was almost impossible to keep track of one person alone without physically gluing yourslef to them.

“MA! Ma where are you we know you’re here somewhere…!” Helen screamed, looking around desperately, hoping to spot the woman because she knows she’d be here. Where else would she be?

They were right, of course. Norma had been fighting for this day just as long as her husband had been, and she wasn’t going to sit out on this, to miss it happening. She was quick for her age, something not many people knew, but the woman had been rushing through the violent streets helping where she could. Nobody expected a little old lady to be packing heat, of course. And she had been there, in the park, when the statue was toppled and then suddenly the wall was down. The tears had ran down her face at the sight of it crumbling and being destroyed, The Wall that had kept her from her husband for decades.

She didn’t question her husbands’ actions, he always said he was waiting for the right time to topple with The Wall with his explosives and he’d finally done it. People were coughing yes but she could only guess it was from the smoke, because why would he introduce poisonus air to a city he was trying to save?

Where was he? Where was he, there was so much shouting and guns being shot what if one had hit him? What if he was laying dying somewhere she couldn’t get to him? “ONCE-LER?” she finally screamed, “Where are you?!”

That’s when she suddenly felt a strong hand grab her around her throat. Norma tried to scream but she couldn’t, and the gun in her hand was ripped away before the hilt of it struck her against the forehead. The old woman cried out again before she was partly dragged away from the crowd and it was now she realzied it wasn’t just anyone who had grabbed her; it was him.

“Sorry Grammy,” O'Hare snarled, “No happily ever after for you.” he snarled.

Suddenly they were in front of the chopping machine, and the violence around them while still happening, seemed to have lessened. O'Hare saw more of his men falling than he would like to admit, he was losing, so what was this, a last ditch effort to have one win? To get to the old man in the worst possible way? He didn’t even know, and he was the one doing it.

Behind him he suddenly heard the sound of cries, closer this time, caused him to spin around still holding the woman who was now bleeding from the forehead. O'Hare watched as the guards, still dressed in black, were coming up against the old man. Once-ler swung his elbow and hit a man in the throat, before he ducked and swung his feet and knocked another to his feet. He still held that shotgun in his hands, but was using it more like a club here then a gun. Why, was he out of bullets? Hat he run out? O'Hare pulled Norma closer and hissed in her ear. “Enjoy the sight, you’re not going to see him again.” he whispered to her.

“ONCE-LER!” Norma screamed the same instant she over heard “GRAMMY!” from the crowd.

Once-ler’s head spun around and he saw O'Hare not too far from him, and he raised his shotgun, already knowing and accepting there was no other way out of this, that he had to kill the man and he regretted not doing it sooner but that feeling only exploded ten fold when he saw who he had with him, who he had a gun aimed at. His heart froze, and leaped into his throat and he felt the wind knocked out of him. “Norma.” he whispered shakily, and immediately lowered the shot gun.

Funny that, now, everything had gone quiet. He felt eyes on him, eyes of all sorts. He had entered the town fairly dramatically, after all, so of course people will be staring at him. Especially those who had never seen him, at least until today, when he finally revealed himself to everyone and showed himself to be the one behind every assault against O'Hare and his men.

They had an audience. O'Hare loved his audiences. He always basked in the glory of being in the middle of everything and everyone, while Once-ler had long since learned to hate being the center of attention. It was dangerous. Incredibly dangerous, and right now he was what everyone was looking at.

“Let her go.” Once-ler said, firmly, yet it came more as a plead than an order. “Let her go.”

“Now why would I do that? And lose one of the best bargaining chip I’ve had?” O'Hare asked, pressing the gun to Norma’s temple. “So how does it feel to be a murderer, old man? You’ve killed everyone here! Is that why you filled them with false hope, so they would choke to death on your poisoned air?”

“The air isn’t poisoned any more.” Once-ler shouted back, hands itching against his shotgun. “It’s breathable. The land’s healed itself and it’s time for us to stop hiding in this town, and to bring the trees back. People won’t have to pay for air any more, or sun light, or anything. You’re finished, O'Hare. Why drag this out?”

“IT’S NOT OVER.” O'Hare screamed, shaing in rage, “It’s not over until I say it’s over and I say it ain’t over!”

“Bring back the trees!” Ted suddenly shouted from the crowd, and when Once-ler glanced across to see him he saw the young man being held tightly in his mother’s arms, her eyes wide at the sight before her. Her mother, bleeding, in the clutches of O'Hare and the two men responsible for the town’s present state staring down one another like a sphagetti western. “Thneedville isn’t perfect and we’ve got to make the changes to fix it!” Ted continued before Helen pushed her hand over his mouth, praying nobody would shoot at them.

“Ma, oh God no Ma…” Helen whispered shakily. “This can’t… this can’t be happening…”

“Drop the gun, old man.” O'Hare suddenly snarled, “Drop it and your little old lady here won’t meet a painful end.”

“You’ve lost, why can’t you accept that?” Once-ler asked, “You’ve been in charge this long but you have nothing else to run to. Nowhere to go, nowhere to hide… it’s over. Thneedville isn’t yours any more and you’re finished–”

“DROP YOUR GUN OR SHE DIES!” O'Hare screamed, the gun clicking, that simple sound magnified in Once-ler’s ears when he heard it, freezing his heart all over again.

“DON’T!” Norma shouted, voice shaking. “WE’VE COME TOO FAR! KILL HIM, KILL HIM!”

Once-ler’s heart raced within his chest once it started up again, and it felt as if it could erupt from his ribcage at any minute. His wife, the woman he loved, the woman who had stayed by his side even when Helen was almost lost to them. When the diseased air had almost killed her, made her sick, and forced her into an early labour. He could still remember it, the blood, everywhere. It was two months too early, and just a week after the Lorax had died. It had been all over their bed and he had screamed, screamed himself raw, as he had rushed her to the hospital in town that almost turned him away before they saw he had his pregnant wife with him.

His daughter, his baby, so small and sick born so early. He couldn’t even touch her, afraid his skin would burn her, or kill her. He couldn’t even kiss his wife; he hadn’t kissed her in decades because of the toxic air in his lungs. He had to send Norma into town, with what money he had left, ensuring her livelihood with their daughter and even if Norma had continually visited him he simply couldn’t see Helen. The man’s family had been lost to him, and even with Norma visiting, unable to kiss her, unable to do anything like that… He may as well have been locked away from her for the rest of his life.

Slowly, he turned his gaze and looked at Helen, and Ted. Both look frazzled, terrified, scared for themselves, for Norma… maybe for him. Even with Ted’s whisper from before, that he forgave him, he wondered if anyone else ever could.

“I’m sorry.” Once-ler said quietly, to himself, to his family, to the world. He had whispered it and yet it seemed like a scream, as he began to bend down and slowly lower the shotgun to the floor.

O'Hare’s smile was wide, and proud, on his face. The man’s metallic hand clamped tighter against Norma’s shoulder, making her wince, bruising her old skin. The old Once-ler was a fool, a man clinging to the past, wanting to knock him off of his throne so he could take control and make things his own again. A fool with a dying dream. And trees? Returning? There weren’t any left, and that stupid little seed, that lone foolish seed would never take root, the ground was ruined. No life would grow from it, ever, and the town would be his. Forever.

The shotgun was on the ground now, and the old man was getting to his feet but suddenly his hands moved quicker than O'Hare thought possible for a man his age. His hands dug into his sides and he pulled out two pistols. Norma screamed as the sound of two guns going off filled the air and she felt the hot splash of blood against the side of her face.

O-Hare’s grip on her loosened, and she turned her head to see the man with a bullet wound lodged right between his eyes and the other in his throat. The short man gave one last final choking sound as he fell backwards, and Norma almost fell with him but the metallic hand against her shoulder was shook free. Norma lifted her gaze to see Once-ler stood there, hands still gripping his guns. He began to lower them, and he smiled proudly as Norma got to her feet and began to move towards him when the sound of gunfire filled the air.

Once-ler felt an explosion of red hot pain erupt from the small of his back and felt something lodge within his pine. He was pushed forward from the pain the momentum of the shot, and he’s sure he hears screams from somewhere as he’s propelled forward and then he turns, and he feels another explosion of pain against his chest. He’s been shot. Twice. The old man continues to fall, he’s been so tall for so long, he could fall for an eternity and that’s just what it feels like as the blood flows from the small of his back, staining his old pinstripe jacket at the back, and his poor pink scarf at the front. His guns fell from his grip, hitting the ground a lifetime before he does, and finally he hit the ground, knocking the very last breath of pain, of joy, of sorrow out of his old lungs, and the dirty old Once-ler man who had killed the trees, destroyed a God, caused the exodus of every animal in the valley, he who had brought down The Wall, gathered the people, incited the violence and the riots and the freedom, brought down O'Hare… died.

There was no time for last words, farewells, or well wishes. Not in his life. He had been robbed of everything else, so even in his death he could not tell his wife he loved her, that he resented himself for missing Helen’s life, for changing his grandson into a murderer in the name of freedom. His eyes stared through his goggles, no longer capable of sight, as Norma fell to her knees besides him.

His ears could not hear her screams, her pleas for him to not be dead. He could not feel her arms wrap around him as the old woman, the woman who had been the only source of joy and love in his life, pulled his crumpled, bleeding body against her. She didn’t care about the grime, the dirt, the blood, none of it mattered.

Her daughter and grandson were with her seconds later, she was sure of it though she was numb to their touch, deaf to their words. The tears rolled down her eyes as the man who had wandered into her life, changed it in the best and worst and most possible way imaginable, was gone. He was gone where she could no longer visit him to hear his voice, feel his touch, or be in his presence. She had lost him, lost him to the war he’d been fighting for so long.

The fallen hero of Thneedville, for Greenville, for the trees.

Whilst all this was happening, as the great man had been falling he had locked eyes on the individual who had pulled the trigger of their gun, shooting the man so cowardly when the battle was over. It was one of his guards, McGurk, a man he had known for years now. A man he had shared drinks over and gotten to know but this… no. Sy gave a frustrated cry as he lifted his gun, and rang out a shot as McGurk was turning to run. It hit him somewhere vital, and he watched the giant man stagger and fall to the ground.

Threat passed, Sy turned his gaze to the family as they gathered around the fallen hero who would never see what his sacrifice would bring.

~*~

It shouldn’t have been surprising to discover he had written a will, nor that he had kept it in his hat all this time. It was simple, really. Anything within his house was up for anyone to take. He wanted a cremation, to have his ashes spread out onto the valley, and nothing more. No headstone, nothing to visit, but that didn’t stop plans in the making already to make a monument to him in town which would stand where he had fallen on that fateful day.

Norma had held onto his ashes, though. She had insisted, after the cremation had taken place, that he would only want to be out there once there was grass, and trees growing. That she would not send her husband’s remains out there if there wasn’t anything green for him to watch over. Helen had insisted they should do it as soon as possible though, but when she saw that heart broken, defeated look in her mother’s eyes she knew she had to let her win this one.

He had died a hero in the eyes of the people. Despite being the man who had brought on the devasation in the valley, he had brought about the change as well. He had rallied people for years, he had buried the exiled, given them a peaceful, warm, safe death when they were dying. He had spent years digging holes out in the valley, planting the seeds of the Truffulas that he had gathered throughout the years but he forever kept that single, special, solitary seed from the Lorax close to his heart.

None other would grow before that one would; his heart had always told him that. 

In the end, after all what had gone down, and the town had gone about cleaning up after the riots and violence, Ted went to the park. There was construction work all around him, there with his mother and grandmother, and he had done just as the Once-ler said to do. He planted the seed, now growing even more thanks to being tended to inside his room. It was already a sapling, when he placed it in the ground, and covered the small roots and what was left of the seed, with dirt. He stood back once it was done, and his grandmother moved in with an old, yellowed watering can she had brought from home.

Word was Once-ler had bought it for her, decades ago, when they had been dating.

She used it to water the small sapling and the moment she did, the skies above Thneedville suddenly opened. Ted looked up, awestruck, as the clouds which had been thinning for some time these past few weeks, finally shifted. The blue sky, high above them, oblivious of their plight and suffering for all these decades, finally showed itself. One shouldn’t be surprised to learn there were a few crashes caused by vehicle by shocked drivers since none of them, save for the elderly among them, had ever seen the blue sky before.

A day or so later, the wind was back. The stiff, sour smell was gone, and the breeze raced through town. It ruffled washing, knocked hats off head, caused hair to billow in its gusts of wind and filled flags and kites; its returned was celebrated by all. And if you thought that was impressive, the first rainfall to happen in decades was like the fourth of July.

It was almost a year, a whole, entire, year before Norma finally felt it was time for them to scatter Once-ler’s ashes across the valley. The grass was growing again, the stream was flowing with clean, pur water, and there were small saplings smothered the landscape. Pink, red, yellow, orange, and even a few purple coloured saplings showed just how many times Once-ler had gone out into the valley and buried what seeds he could find. He had left none behind, save for the Lorax’s. Speaking of, it was taller than Ted now, that tree. In the middle of the park, where O'Hare’s statue once stood, now stood the proud tree. It was pink, and beautiful, a sign of hope and change for everyone in the newly renamed Greenville. Yes, Thneedville was no more. Greenville had returned.

They found a nice spot in which to do it, after driving in the car for a while. Norma felt better to scatter his ashes away from the house that had been his exile, his prison in a way, for so long. So they had continued going until they reached the spot where his cottage had once stood. Norma knew the place well, besides the stream, by those special rocks they had sat on for hours at a time all those years ago when they were young and niaeve, oblivious to how their world would end.

They stood on the small hill, Helen holding Ted’s hand, while Norma held the urn that held Once-ler’s ashes. Fittingly, it was a deep emerald colour. The old woman, now proudly wearing her wedding band on her finger, held the urn closer to her and kissed the container one last time before she opened up the lid and emptied the contents.

The wind caught at them immediately, as if it had been waiting for them, and the ashes scattered instantly. The family of three watched as the last remaining remnants of the Once-ler, be him their husband, father, or grandfather, was carried away on the wind he had so desperately longed to feel on his face once more. He wouldn’t feel the grass beneath his feet, he wouldn’t feel the rain, see the trees and plants growing, all of it was lost to him despite being the one who ensured that one day they could return.

Ted stood there, helplessly, as his grandmother broke down into sobs, covering her eyes with her hands. He had watched her do this throughout the funeral they held, a small, private affair which had taken place before the cremation. She had sobbed and held herself up besides the opened casket of her husband. He had been shut away from the world so long, she had refused them to close it. Let the world see him, for one last time, as the man who had done so much with his life; both good and bad.

Finally his mother walked her away, slowly, leaving him to stand on the hill alone for a while. He fiddled with the tie he wore, feeling uncomfortable and out of place. It was still hard to imagine that he was gone, even if he had only known him for less than a week the Once-ler had changed his life around, spun his world on its end, then ultimately rip his heart out at his death; no, his murder. He had watched the life leave him, saw him fall, and heard the gun shots that ended his life before it should have.

He hated it; he hated the world for it, even with everything returning to normal. He felt cheated of something, and someone, wonderful. The young man clenched his hands tightly and had to remind himself it was for good reason. Audrey had found her parents, thankfully they had survived interrogation, and they were very close now. He saw her every day. His mother, and grandmother were alive and so was he. He had to be grateful for what he had and yet he still felt so angry.

Slowly he turned his head away but something within him told him to stop, to not join his family at the car just yet. He turned his head, and stared, because there was something happening not ten feet away from him.

The wind was picking up quicker than he had ever felt it, there was a rustling in the grass, and it sent goosebumps rippling up his arms. Sunlight poured out of the sky and it seemed to almost fix itself on the spot before the boy, who took a few steps back, as something began to form on the grass; no, of the grass. The grass was growing faster, but not only that, it was forming a shape. Faster and faster the grass grew, forming legs, a tail, a body, and finally a head of something which had its back to him.

It suddenly sat up and it was unlike any creature Ted had ever seen before and yet he knew it, instantly, on sight even if it was not the way he had imagined it to be. The beast, the animal, got to its four feet and as it set those paws on the grass flowers sprung to life beneath them. They bloomed and grew up to its knees, as its long tail unfurled behind it like a king’s cape.

He had imagined what the Lorax would look like, but this… no. It was not orange, with a yellow moustache or anything like how Once-ler had described him t ohim. This one was taller, its fur was green, green as the grass itself, and the moustache that covered its mouth and the magnificent looking brows that matched the long trailing mane that hung down around its shoulders and followed down its back to become its tail was grey. Along its incredibly long legs, at least from the knee downwards, was grey fetlocks that trailed against his legs. They of course matched the same colour as his moustache, and mane.

It turned its head suddenly and vividly bright blue and familiar eyes looked at Ted, and the boy felt his breath catch in his throat and he visibly shuddered at the sight of this animal, at those eyes.

“No.” Ted whispered shakily, unable to believe what he had just witnessed, what he was seeing.

Those blue eyes, he had seen them before. They had stared intently into his from between planks of wood, and again when a towering man with a pink scarf around his neck had tended to his injuries but… no, surely it couldn’t be. These eyes while familiar seemed equally innocent as they did ancient. He felt empowered, suddenly, and took a step towards the beast but that was close enough.

It leaped away from him, arching through the sky with a grace Ted had never seen on any animal or person in all his life. It landed deftly, without a sound, and once more the flowers erupted beneath its feet, and it took off racing across the grass. Ted wanted to chase it, he wanted to call out to it but what was the point? He had kept his eyes on it and yet it had quickly faded from sight seconds later, as if it had never been there at all.

He stood there, transfixed, until he heard his mother call him. Ted hesitated before turning away, and made his way towards the family car. He climbed into the passenger seat as his grandmother sat in the back seat, and stared out the window as his mother started up the car.

“He’s where he’s always wanted to be, now.” Helen said quietly. “We should be happy for him.”

Norma softly agreed, as she gently caressed the gold band on her wedding ring.

Ted, however, said nothing.

He knew the truth.

The Lorax had indeed returned, just like his grandfather had said it would.

_The End_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dark enough for you????
> 
> Clearly big inspiration comes from Princess Mononoke and V for Vendatta. What a wild ride... thanks for reading!


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